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J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS, 
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THE  DESERTER, 


AND 


FROM  THE  RANKS 


TWO  NOVELS. 


BY 

CAPT.  CHARLES  KING,  U.S.A., 

AUTHOR  OF  "  TH?  COI.OVEL's   DAUGHTER,"   "  MARION'S  FAITH,"   "  K7TTY'3 
CONQUEST,"    ETC.,   ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY. 
1896. 


Copyright,  1887,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  CoMPAKl 


PS 


THE   DESERTER, 


625081 


THE  DESERTER 


PRELUDE. 

FAR  up  in  the  Northwest,  along  the  banks  of  the  broad,  winding 
stream  the  Sioux  call  the  Elk,  a  train  of  white-topped  army- 
wagons  is  slowly  crawling  eastward.  The  October  sun  is  hot  at  noon- 
day, and  the  dust  from  the  loose  soil  rises  like  heavy  smoke  and 
powders  every  face  and  form  in  the  guarding  battalion  so  that  features 
are  wellnigh  indistinguishable.  Four  companies  of  stalwart,  sinewy 
infantry,  with  their  brown  rifles  slung  over  the  shoulder,  are  striding 
along  in  dispersed  order,  covering  the  exposed  southern  flank  from  sud- 
den attack,  while  farther  out  along  the  ridge-line,  and  far  to  the  front 
and  rear,  cavalry  skirmishers  and  scouts  are  riding  to  and  fro,  search- 
ing every  hollow  and  ravine,  peering  cautiously  over  every  "  divide," 
and  signalling  "  halt"  or  "  forward"  as  the  indications  warrant. 

And  yet  not  a  hostile  Indian  has  been  seen  ;  not  one,  even  as  distant 
vedette,  has  appeared  in  range  of  the  binoculars,  since  the  scouts  rode 
in  at  daybreak  to  say  that  big  bands  were  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood. It  has  been  a  long,  hard  summer's  work  for  the  troops,  and  the 
Indians  have  been,  to  all  commands  that  boasted  strength  or  swiftness, 
elusive  as  the  Irishman's  flea  of  tradition.  Only  to  those  whose  num- 
bers were  weak  or  whose  movements  were  hampered  have  they  appeared 
in  fighting-trim.  But  combinations  have  been  too  much  for  them,  and 
at  last  they  have  been  "  herded"  down  to  the  Elk,  have  crossed,  and 
are  now  seeking  to  make  their  way,  with  women,  children,  tepees,  dogs, 
"  travois,"  and  the  great  pony  herds,  to  the  fastnesses  of  the  Big  Horn  ; 
and  now  comes  the  opportunity  for  which  an  old  Indian-fighter  has 
been  anxiously  waiting.  In  a  big  cantonment  he  has  held  the  main 
body  under  his  command,  while  keeping  out  constant  scouting-pailies 
to  the  east  and  north.  He  knows  well  that,  true  to  their  policy,  (.lie 


0  THE  DESERTER. 

Indians  will  have  scattered  into  small  bands  capable  of  reassembling 
anywhere  that  signal  smokes  may  call  them,  and  his  orders  are  to 
watch  all  the  crossings  of  the  Elk  and  nab  them  as  they  come  into  hi« 
district.  He  watches,  despite  the  fact  that  it  is  his  profound  conviction 
that  the  Indians  will  be  no  such  idiots  as  to  come  just  where  they  are 
wanted,  and  he  is  in  no  wise  astonished  when  a  courier  comes  in  on 
jaded  horse  to  tell  him  that  they  have  "  doubled"  on  the  other  column 
and  are  now  two  or  three  days'  march  away  down  stream,  "  making  for 
the  big  bend."  His  own  scouting-parties  are  still  out  to  the  eastward  : 
he  can  pick  them  up  as  he  goes.  He  sends  the  main  body  of  his  in- 
fantry, a  regiment  jocularly  known  as  "  The  Riflers,"  to  push  for  a 
landing  some  fifty  miles  down-stream,  scouting  the  lower  valley  of  the 
Sweet  Root  on  the  way.  He  sends  his  wagon-train,  guarded  by  four 
companies  of  foot  and  two  of  horsemen,  by  the  only  practicable  road 
to  the  bend,  while  he,  with  ten  seasoned  "  troops"  of  his  pet  regiment, 
the  — th  Cavalry,  starts  forthwith  on  a  long  detour  in  which  he 
hopes  to  "  round  up"  such  bands  as  may  have  slipped  away  from  the 
general  rush.  Even  as  "  boots  and  saddles"  is  sounding,  other  couriers 
come  riding  in  from  Lieutenant  Crane's  party.  He  has  struck  the 
trail  of  a  big  band. 

When  the  morning  sun  dawns  on  the  picturesque  valley  in  which 
the  cantonment  nestled  but  the  day  before,  it  illumines  an  almost  de- 
serted village,  and  brings  no  joy  to  the  souls  of  some  twoscore  of  em- 
bittered civilians  who  had  arrived  only  the  day  previous,  and  whose 
unanimous  verdict  is  that  the  army  is  a  fraud  and  ought  to  be  abolished. 
For  four  months  or  more  some  three  regiments  had  been  camping, 
scouting,  roughing  it  thereabouts,  with  not  a  cent  of  pay.  Then  came 
the  wildly  exciting  tidings  that  a  boat  was  on  the  way  up  the  Missouri 
with  a  satrap  of  the  pay  department,  vast  store  of  shekels,  and  a  strong 
guard,  and  as  a  consequence  there  would  be  some  two  thousand  men 
around  the  cantonment  with  pockets  full  of  money  and  no  one  to  help 
them  spend  it,  and  nothing  suitable  to  spend  it  on.  It  was  a  duty  all 
citizens  owed  to  the  Territory  to  hasten  to  the  scene  and  gather  in  for 
local  circulation  all  that  was  obtainable  of  that  disbursement ;  other- 
wise the  curse  of  the  army  might  get  ahead  of  them  and  the  boys 
would  gamble  it  away  among  themselves  or  spend  it  for  vile  whiskey 
manufactured  for  their  sole  benefit.  Gallatin  Valley  was  emptied  of 
its  prominent  practitioners  in  the  game  of  poker.  The  stream  was 
black  with  "  Mackinaw"  boats  and  other  craft.  There  was  a  rush  for 


THE  DESERTER.  7 

the  cantonment  that  rivalled  the  multitudes  of  the  mining  days,  but  all 
too  late.  The  command  was  already  packing  up  when  the  first  con- 
tingent arrived,  and  the  commanding  officer,  recognizing  the  fraternity 
at  a  glance,  warned  them  outside  the  limits  of  camp  that  night,  declined 
their  services  as  volunteers  on  the  impending  campaign,  and  treated 
them  with  such  calmly  courteous  recognition  of  their  true  character 
that  the  Eastern  press  was  speedily  filled  with  sneering  comment  on 
the  hopelessness  of  ever  subduing  the  savage  tribes  of  the  Northwest 
when  the  government  intrusts  the  duty  to  upstart  officers  of  the  regular 
service  whose  sole  conception  of  their  functions  is  to  treat  with  insult 
and  contempt  the  hardy  frontiersman  whose  mere  presence  with  the 
command  would  be  of  incalculable  benefit.  "  We  have  it  from  indis- 
putable authority,"  says  The  Miner's  Light  of  Brandy  Gap,  "  that  when 
our  esteemed  fellow-citizen  Hank  Mulligan  and  twenty  gallant  shots 
and  riders  like  himself  went  in  a  body  to  General at  the  canton- 
ment and  offered  their  services  as  volunteers  against  the  Sioux  now 
devastating  the  homesteads  and  settlements  of  the  Upper  Missouri  and 
Yellowstone  valleys,  they  were  treated  with  haughty  and  contemptu- 
ous refusal  by  that  bandbox  caricature  of  a  soldier  and  threatened 
with  arrest  if  they  did  not  quit  the  camp.  When  will  the  United 
States  learn  that  its  frontiers  can  never  be  purged  of  the  Indian 
scourges  of  our  civilization  until  the  conduct  of  affairs  in  the  field  is 
intrusted  to  other  hands  than  these  martinets  of  the  drill-ground  ?  It 
is  needless  to  remark  in  this  connection  that  the  expedition  led  by 

General has  proved  a  complete  failure,  and  that  the  Indians  easily 

escaped  his  clumsily-led  forces." 

The  gamblers,  though  baffled  for  the  time  being,  of  course  "get 
square,"  and  more  too,  with  the  unfortunate  general  in  this  sort  of  war- 
fare, but  they  are  a  disgusted  lot  as  they  hang  about  the  wagon-train  as 
last  of  all  it  is  being  hitched-in  to  leave  camp.  Some  victims,  of  course, 
they  have  secured,  and  there  are  no  devices  of  commanding  officers  which 
can  protect  their  men  against  those  sharks  of  the  prairies  when  the  men 
themselves  are  bound  to  tempt  Providence  and  play.  There  are  two 
scowling  faces  in  the  cavalry  escort  that  has  been  left  back  with  the  train, 
and  Captain  Hull,  the  commanding  officer,  has  reprimanded  Sergeants 
Clancy  and  Gower  in  stinging  terms  for  their  absence  from  the  com- 
mand during  the  night.  There  is  little  question  where  they  spent  it, 
and  both  have  been  "  cleaned  out."  What  makes  it  worse,  both  have 


8  THE  DESERTER. 

lost  money  that  belonged  to  other  men  in  the  command,  afcd  they  are 
in  bad  odor  accordingly. 

The  long  day's  march  has  tempered  the  joviality  of  the  entire 
column.  It  is  near  sundown,  and  still  they  keep  plodding  onward, 
making  for  a  grassy  level  on  the  river-bank  a  good  mile  farther. 

"  Old  Hull  seems  bound  to  leave  the  sports  as  far  behind  as  possi- 
ble, if  he  has  to  march  us  until  midnight,"  growls  the  battalion  adju- 
tant to  his  immediate  commander.  "  By  thunder !  one  would  think 
he  was  afraid  they  would  get  in  a  lick  at  his  own  pile." 

"  How  much  did  you  say  he  was  carrying  ?"  asks  Captain  Rayner, 
checking  his  horse  for  a  moment  to  look  back  over  the  valley  at  thp 
long,  dust-enveloped  column. 

"  Nearly  three  thousand  dollars  in  one  wad." 

"  How  does  he  happen  to  have  such  a  sum  ?" 

"  Why,  Crane  left  his  pay-accounts  with  him.  He  drew  all  that 
was  due  his  men  who  are  off  with  Crane, — twenty  of  them, — for  they 
had  signed  the  rolls  before  going,  and  were  expected  back  to-day.  Then 
he  has  some  six  hundred  dollars  company  fund ;  and  the  men  of  his 
troop  asked  him  to  take  care  of  a  good  deal  besides.  The  old  man  has 
been  with  them  so  many  years  they  look  upon  him  as  a  father  and  trust 
him  as  implicitly  as  they  would  a  savings-bank." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  answers  Rayner  ;  "  but  I  wouldn't  want  to 
carry  any  such  sum  with  me." 

"It's  different  with  Hull's  men,  captain.  They  are  ordered  in 
through  the  posts  and  settlements.  They  have  a  three  weeks'  march 
ahead  of  them  when  they  get  through  their  scout,  and  they  want  theii 
money  on  the  way.  It  was  only  after  they  had  drawn  it  that  the  newa 
came  of  the  Indians'  crossing  and  of  our  having  to  jump  for  the  war- 
path. Everybody  thought  yesterday  morning  that  the  campaign  was 
about  over  so  far  as  we  are  concerned.  Halloo !  here  comes  young 
Hayne.  Now,  what  does  he  want  ?" 

Hiding  a  quick,  nervous  little  bay  troop  horse,  a  slim-built  officer, 
with  boyish  face,  laughing  blue  eyes,  and  sunny  hair,  comes  loping  up 
the  long  prairie  wave  ;  he  shouts  cheery  greeting  to  one  or  two  brother 
subalterns  who  are  plodding  along  beside  their  men,  and  exchanges  some 
merry  chaff  with  Lieutenant  Ross,  who  is  prone  to  growl  at  the  luck 
which  has  kept  him  afoot  and  given  to  this  favored  youngster  a  "  mount" 
and  a  temporary  staff  position.  The  boy's  spirits  and  fun  seem  to  jar  on 
Rayner's  nerves.  He  regards  him  blackly  as  he  rides  gracefully  towards 


THE  DESERTER.  9 

the  battalion  commander,  and  with  decidedly  nonchalant  ease  of  manner 
and  an  "  off-hand"  salute  that  has  an  air  about  it  of  saying,  "  I  do  this 
sort  of  thing  because  one  has  to,  but  it  doesn't  really  mean  anything, 
you  know,"  Mr.  Hayne  accosts  his  superior : 

"  Ah,  good-evening,  captain.  I  have  just  come  back  from  the 
front,  and  Captain  Hull  directed  me  to  give  you  his  compliments  and 
say  that  we  would  camp  in  the  bend  yonder,  and  he  would  like  you  to 
post  strong  pickets  and  have  a  double  guard  to-night." 

"  Have  me  post  double  guards  !  How  the  devil  does  he  expect  me 
to  do  that  after  marching  all  day  ?" 

"  I  did  not  inquire,  sir :  he  might  have  told  me  'twas  none  of  my 
business,  don't  you  know?"  And  Mr.  Hayne  has  the  insufferable 
hardihood  to  wink  at  the  battalion  adjutant, — a  youth  of  two  years' 
longer  service  than  his  own. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hayne,  this  is  no  matter  for  levity,"  says  Rayner, 
angrily.  "  What  does  Captain  Hull  mean  to  do  with  his  own  men,  if 
I'm  to  do  the  guard  ?" 

"  That  is  another  point,  Captain  Rayner,  which  I  had  not  the  requi- 
site effrontery  to  inquire  into.  Now,  you  might  ask  him,  but  I  couldn't, 
don't  you  know  ?"  responds  Hayne,  smiling  amiably  the  while  into  the 
wrathful  face  of  his  superior.  It  serves  only  to  make  the  indignant 
captain  more  wrathful ;  and  no  wonder.  There  has  been  no  love  lost 
between  the  two  since  Hayne  joined  the  Riflers  early  the  previous  year. 
He  came  in  from  civil  life,  a  city-bred  boy,  fresh  from  college,  full 
of  spirits,  pranks,  fun  of  every  kind  ;  a  wonderfully  keen  hand  with 
the  billiard-cue ;  a  knowing  one  at  cards  and  such  games  of  chance 
as  college  boys  excel  at ;  a  musician  of  no  mean  pretensions,  and  an 
irrepressible  leader  in  all  the  frolics  and  frivolities  of  his  comrades. 
He  had  leaped  to  popularity  from  the  start.  He  was  full  of  cour- 
tesy and  gentleness  to  women,  and  became  a  pet  in  social  circles.  He 
was  frank,  free,  off-handed  with  his  associates,  spending  lavishly, 
"treating"  with  boyish  ostentation  on  all  occasions,  living  quite  en 
grand  seigneur,  for  he  seemed  to  have  a  little  money  outside  his  pay, 
— "  a  windfall  from  a  good  old  duffer  of  an  uncle,"  as  he  had  explained 
it.  His  father,  a  scholarly  man  who  had  been  summoned  to  an  im- 
portant under-office  in  the  State  Department  during  the  War  of  th« 
Rebellion,  had  lived  out  his  honored  life  in  Washington  and  died  poor, 
as  such  men  must  ever  die.  It  was  his  wish  that  his  handsome,  spirited, 
brave-hearted  boy  should  (>"ter  the  army,  and  long  after  the  sod  had 
A* 


10  THE  DESERTER. 

hardened  over  the  father's  peaceful  grave  the  young  fellow  donned  his 
first  uniform  and  went  out  to  join  "  The  Riflers."  High-spirited,  joy- 
ous, full  of  laughing  fun,  he  was  "  Pet"  Hayne  before  he  had  been 
among  them  six  months.  But  within  the  year  he  had  made  one  or  two 
enemies.  It  could  not  be  said  of  him  that  he  showed  that  deference 
to  rank  and  station  which  was  expected  of  a  junior  officer  j  and  among 
the  seniors  were  several  whom  he  speedily  designated  "  unconscionable 
old  duffers"  and  treated  with  as  little  semblance  of  respect  as  a  second 
lieutenant  could  exhibit  and  be  permitted  to  live.  Rayner  prophesied  of 
him  that,  as  he  had  no  balance  and  was  burning  his  candle  at  both  ends, 
he  would  come  to  grief  in  short  order.  Hayne  retorted  that  the  only 
balance  that  Rayner  had  any  respect  for  was  one  at  the  banker's,  and 
that  it  was  notorious  in  Washington  that  the  captain's  father  had  made 
most  of  his  money  in  government  contracts,  and  that  the  captain's 
original  commission  in  the  regulars  was  secured  through  well-paid  Con- 
gressional influence.  The  fact  that  Rayner  had  developed  into  a  good 
officer  did  not  wipe  out  the  recollection  of  these  facts ;  and  he  could 
have  throttled  Hayne  for  reviving  them.  It  was  "  a  game  of  give  and 
take,"  said  the  youngster;  and  he  "behaved  himself"  to  those  who 
were  at  all  decent  in  their  manner  to  him. 

It  was  a  thorn  in  Rayner's  flesh,  therefore,  when  Hayne  joined  from 
leave  of  absence,  after  experiences  not  every  officer  would  care  to  en- 
counter in  getting  back  to  his  regiment,  that  Captain  Hull  should  have 
induced  the  general  to  detail  him  in  place  of  the  invalided  field  quarter- 
master when  the  command  was  divided.  Hayne  would  have  been  a 
junior  subaltern  in  Rayner's  little  battalion  but  for  that  detail,  and  it 
anuoyed  the  captain  more  seriously  than  he  would  confess. 

"  It  is  all  an  outrage  and  a  blunder  to  pick  out  a  boy  like  that,"  he 
growls  between  his  set  teeth  as  Hayne  canters  blithely  away.  "  Here 
he's  been  away  from  the  regiment  all  summer  long,  having  a  big  time 
and  getting  head  over  ears  in  debt,  I  hear,  and  the  moment  he  rejoins 
they  put  him  in  charge  of  the  wagon-train  as  field  quartermaster.  It's 
putting  a  premium  on  being  young  and  cheeky, — besides  absenteeism," 
ae  continues,  growing  blacker  every  minute. 

"Well,  captain,"  answers  his  adjutant,  injudiciously,  "I  think 
you  don't  give  Hayne  credit  for  coming  back  on  the  jump  the  moment 
we  were  ordered  out.  It  was  no  fault  of  his  he  could  not  reach  us. 
He  took  chances  I  wouldn't  take." 

"  Oh,  yes !  you   kids  all  swear  by  Hayne   because  he's  a  good 


THE  DESERTER.  ll 

fellow  and  sings  a  jolly  song  and  plays  the  piano — and  poker.  One  of 
these  days  he'll  swamp  you  all,  sure  as  snooting.  He's  in  debt  now, 
and  it'll  fetch  him  before  you  know  it.  What  he  needs  is  to  be  under 
a  captain  who  could  discipline  him  a  little.  By  Jove,  I'd  do  it !"  And 
Rayner's  teeth  emphasize  the  assertion. 

The  young  adjutant  thinks  it  advisable  to  say  nothing  that  may 
provoke  further  vehemence.  All  the  same,  he  remembers  Rayneri 
bitterness  of  manner,  and  has  abundant  cause  to. 

When  the  next  morning  breaks,  chill  and  pallid,  a  change  has  come 
in  the  aspect  of  affairs.  During  the  earliest  hour  of  the  dawn  the  red 
light  of  a  light-draught  river-boat  startled  the  outlying  pickets  down- 
stream, and  the  Far  West,  answering  the  muffled  hail  from  shore, 
responded,  through  the  medium  of  a  mate's  stentorian  tones,  "  News 
that'll  rout  you  fellows  out."  The  sun  is  hardly  peeping  over  the 
jagged  outline  of  the  eastern  hills  when,  with  Rayner's  entire  battalion 
aboard,  she  is  steaming  again  down-stream,  with  orders  to  land  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Sweet  Root.  There  the  four  companies  will  disembark  in 
readiness  to  join  the  rest  of  the  regiment. 

All  day  long  again  the  wagon-train  twists  and  wriggles  through  an 
ashen  section  of  Les  Mauvaises  Terres.  It  is  a  tedious,  trying  march 
for  Hull's  little  command  of  troopers, — all  that  is  now  left  to  guard  the 
train.  The  captain  is  constantly  out  on  the  exposed  flank,  eagerly 
scanning  the  rough  country  to  the  south,  and  expectant  any  moment  of 
an  attack  from  that  direction.  He  and  his  men,  as  well  as  the  horses, 
mules,  and  teamsters,  are  fairly  tired  out  when  at  nightfall  they  park  the 
wagons  in  a  big  semicircle,  with  the  broad  river  forming  a  shining 
chord  to  the  arc  of  white  canvas.  All  the  live-stock  are  safely  herded 
within  the  enclosure ;  a  few  reliable  soldiers  are  posted  well  out  to  the 
south  and  east,  to  guard  against  surprise,  and  the  veteran  Sergeant 
Clancy  is  put  in  command  of  the  sentries.  The  captain  gives  strict 
injunctions  as  to  the  importance  of  these  duties ;  for  he  is  far  from  easy 
in  his  mind  over  the  situation.  The  Riflers,  he  knows,  are  over  in  the 
valley  of  the  Sweet  Root.  The  steamer  with  Rayner's  men  is  tied  up 
at  the  bank  some  five  miles  below,  around  the  bend.  The  — th  are 
far  off  to  the  northward  across  the  Elk,  as  ordered,  and  must  be 
expecting  on  the  morrow  to  make  for  the  old  Indian  "  ferry"  opposite 
Battle  Butte.  The  main  body  of  the  Sioux  are  reported  farther  down 
.stream,  but  he  feels  it  in  his  bones  that  there  are  numbers  of  them 
within  signal,  and  he  wishes  with  all  his  heart  the  — th  were  here. 


12  THE  DESERTER. 

Still,  the  general  was  sure  he  would  stir  up  war-parties  on  the  other 
shore.  Individually,  he  has  had  very  little  luck  in  scouting  during  the 
summer,  and  he  cannot  help  wishing  he  were  with  the  rest  of  the  crowd 
instead  of  here,  train-guarding. 

Presently  Mr.  Hayne  appears,  elastic  and  debonair  as  though  he 
had  not  been  working  like  a  horse  all  day.  His  voice  sounds  so  full  of 
cheer  and  life  that  Hull  looks  up  smilingly : 

"  Well,  youngster,  you  seem  to  love  this  frontier  life." 

"  Every  bit  of  it,  captain.  I  was  cut  out  for  the  army,  as  father 
thought." 

"  We  used  to  talk  it  over  a  good  deal  in  the  old  days  when  I  was 
stationed  around  Washington,"  answers  Hull.  "  Your  father  was  the 
warmest  friend  I  had  in  civil  circles,  and  he  made  it  very  pleasant  for 
me.  How  little  we  thought  it  would  be  my  luck  to  have  you  for 
quartermaster !" 

"  The  fellows  seemed  struck  all  of  a  heap  in  the  Riflers  at  the  idea 
of  your  applying  for  me,  captain.  I  was  ready  to  swear  it  was  all  on 
lather's  account,  and  would  have  told  them  so,  only  Rayner  happened 
to  be  the  first  man  to  tackle  me  on  the  subject,  and  he  was  so  crusty 
about  it  I  kept  the  whole  thing  to  myself  rather  than  give  him  any 
satisfaction." 

"  Larry,  my  boy,  I'm  no  preacher,  but  I  want  to  be  the  friend  to 
you  your  father  was  to  me.  You  are  full  of  enthusiasm  and  life  and 
spirits,  and  you  love  the  army  ways  and  have  made  yourself  very  pop- 
ular with  the  youngsters,  but  I'm  afraid  you  are  too  careless  and  inde- 
pendent where  the  seniors  are  concerned.  Rayner  is  a  good  soldier ; 
and  you  show  him  very  scant  respect,  I'm  told." 

"  Well,  he's  such  an  interfering  fellow.  They  will  all  tell  you  I'm 
respectful  enough  to — to  the  captains  I  like " 

"  That's  just  it,  Lawrence.  So  long  as  you  like  a  man  your  manner 
is  what  it  should  be.  What  a  young  soldier  ought  to  learn  is  to  be 
courteous  and  respectful  to  senior  officers  whether  he  likes  them  or  not. 
It  costs  an  effort  sometimes,  but  it  tells.  You  never  know  what  trouble 
you  are  laying  up  for  yourself  in  the  army  by  bucking  against  men  you 
don't  like.  They  may  not  be  in  position  to  resent  it  at  the  time,  but 
the  time  is  mighty  apt  to  come  when  they  will  be,  and  then  you  are 


"  Why,  Captain  Hull,  I  don't  see  it  that  way  at  all.     It  seems  to 
ine  that  so  long  na  an  officer  attends  to  his  duty,  minds  his  own  busi- 


THE  DESERTER.  13 

ness,  and  behaves  like  a  gentleman,  no  one  can  harm  him ;  especially 
when  all  the  good  fellows  of  the  regiment  are  his  friends,  as  they  are 
mine,  I  think,  in  the  Riflers." 

"  Ah,  Hayne,  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  teach  a  youngster  that — that 
there  are  men  who  find  it  very  easy  to  make  their  juniors'  lives  a  burden 
to  them,  and  without  overstepping  a  regulation.  It  is  harder  yet  to  say 
that  friends  in  the  army  are  a  good  deal  like  friends  out  of  it :  one  only 
has  to  get  into  serious  trouble  to  find  how  few  they  are.  God  grant 
you  may  never  have  to  learn  it,  my  boy,  as  many  another  has  had  to, 
by  sharp  experience  !  Now  we  must  get  a  good  night's  rest.  You 
sleep  like  a  log,  I  see,  and  I  can  only  take  cat-naps.  Confound  this 
money  !  How  I  wish  I  could  get  rid  of  it !" 

"Where  do  you  keep  it  to-night?" 

"Right  here  in  my  saddle-bags  under  my  head.  Nobody  can 
touch  them  that  I  do  not  wake ;  and  my  revolver  is  here  under  the 
blanket.  Hold  on !  Let's  take  a  look  and  see  if  everything  is  all 
right."  He  holds  a  little  camp-lantern  over  the  bags,  opens  the  flap, 
and  peers  in.  "  Yes, — all  serene.  I  got  a  big  hunk  of  green  sealing- 
wax  from  the  paymaster  and  sealed  it  all  up  in  one  package  with  the 
memorandum-list  inside.  It's  all  safe  so  far,— -even  to  the  hunk  of 
sealing-wax. — What  is  it,  sergeant?" 

A  tall,  soldierly,  dark-eyed  trooper  appears  at  the  door-way  of 
the  little  tent,  and  raises  his  gauntleted  hand  in  salute.  His  language, 
though  couched  in  the  phraseology  of  the  soldier,  tells  both  in  choice 
of  words  and  in  the  intonation  of  every  phrase  that  he  is  a  man  whose 
antecedents  have  been  far  different  from  those  of  the  majority  of  the 
rank  and  file  : 

"  Will  the  captain  permit  me  to  take  my  horse  and  those  of  three 
or  four  more  men  outside  the  corral  ?  Sergeant  Clancy  says  he  has  no 
authority  to  allow  it.  We  have  found  a  patch  of  excellent  grass,  sir, 
and  there  is  hardly  any  left  inside.  I  will  sleep  by  my  picket-pin,  and 
one  of  us  will  keep  awake  all  the  time,  if  the  captain  will  permit." 

"  How  far  away  is  it,  sergeant  ?" 

"  Not  seventy-five  yards,  sir, — close  to  the  river-bank  east  of  us." 

"  Very  well.  Send  Sergeant  Clancy  here,  and  I'll  give  the  necessary 
orders." 

The  soldier  quietly  salutes,  and  disappears  in  the  gathering  dark- 
uess. 

"  That's  what  I  like  about  that  man  Gower,"  says  the  captain,  after 
2 


14  THE  DESERTER. 

a  moment's  silence.  "  He  is  always  looking  out  for  his  horse.  If  he 
were  not  such  a  gambler  and  rake  he  would  make  a  splendid  first- 
sergeant.  Fine-looking  fellow,  isn't  he  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  That  is  a  face  that  one  couldn't  well  forget.  Who 
was  the  other  sergeant  you  overhauled  for  getting  fleeced  by  those  sharps 
at  the  cantonment  ?" 

"  Clancy  ?    He's  on  guard  to-night.     A  very  different  character." 
"  I  don't  know  him  by  sight  as  yet.     Well,  good-night,  sir.     I'll 
take  myself  off  and  go  to  my  own  tent." 

Daybreak  again,  and  far  to  the  east  the  sky  is  all  ablaze.  The  mist 
is  creeping  from  the  silent  shallows  under  the  banks,  but  all  is  life  and 
vim  along  the  shore.  With  cracking  whip,  tugging  trace,  sonorous 
blasphemy,  and  ringing  shout,  the  long  train  is  whirling  ahead  almost 
at  the  run.  All  is  athrill  with  excitement,  and  bearded  faces  have  a 
strange,  set  look  about  the  jaws,  and  eyes  gleam  with  eager  light  and 
peer  searchingly  from  every  rise  far  over  to  the  southeast,  where  stands 
a  tumbling  heap  of  hills  against  the  lightening  sky.  "  Off  there,  are 
they?"  says  a  burly  trooper,  dismounting  hastily  to  tighten  up  the 
"  cinch"  of  his  weather-beaten  saddle.  "  We  can  make  it  quick  enough, 
's  soon  as  we  get  rid  of  these  blasted  wagons."  And,  swinging  into 
saddle  again,  he  goes  cantering  down  the  slope,  his  charger  snorting 
with  exhilaration  in  the  keen  morning  air. 

Before  dawn  a  courier  has  galloped  into  camp,  bearing  a  despatch 
from  the  commanding  officer  of  the  Riflers.  It  says  but  few  words, 
but  they  are  full  of  meaning :  "  We  have  found  a  big  party  of  hostiles. 
They  are  in  strong  position,  and  have  us  at  disadvantage.  Ruyner 
with  his  four  companies  is  hurrying  to  us.  Leave  all  wagons  with 
the  boat  under  guard,  and  come  with  every  horse  and  man  you  can 
bring." 

Before  seven  o'clock  the  wagons  are  parked  close  along  the  bank 
beside  the  Far  West,  and  Hull,  with  all  the  men  he  can  muster, — 
some  fifty, — is  trotting  ahead  on  the  trail  of  Eayner's  battalion.  With 
him  rides  Mr.  Hayne,  eager  and  enthusiastic.  Before  ten  o'clock,  far 
up  along  the  slopes  they  see  the  blue  line  of  skirmishers,  and  the  knots 
of  reserves  farther  down,  all  at  a  stand.  In  ten  minutes  they  ride  with 
foaming  reins  in  behind  a  low  ridge  on  which,  flat  on  their  faces  and 
cautiously  peering  over  the  crest,  some  hundred  infantrymen  are  dis- 
posed. Others,  officers  and  file-closers,  are  moving  to  and  fro  in  rear. 


THE  DESERTER.  15 

They  are  of  Kayner's  battalion.  Farther  back,  down  in  a  ravine  ft 
dozen  forms  are  outstretched  upon  the  turf,  and  others  are  bending  over 
them,  ministering  to  the  needs  of  those  who  are  not  past  help  already. 
Several  officers  crowd  around  the  leading  horsemen,  and  Hull  orders, 
"  Halt,  dismount,  and  loosen  girths."  The  grave  faces  show  that  the 
infantry  has  had  poor  luck,  and  the  situation  is  summarized  in  few 
words.  The  Indians  are  in  force  occupying  the  ravines  and  ridgea 
opposite  them  and  confronting  the  six  companies  farther  over  to  the 
west.  Two  attacks  have  been  made,  but  the  Indian  fire  swept  every 
approach,  and  both  were  unsuccessful.  Several  soldiers  were  shot  dead, 
others  severely  wounded.  Lieutenant  Warren's  leg  is  shattered  below 
the  knee ;  Captain  Blount  is  killed. 

"  Where's  Eayner  ?"  asks  Hull,  with  grave  face. 

"  Just  gone  off  with  the  chief  to  look  at  things  over  on  the  other 
front.  The  colonel  is  hopping.  He  is  bound  to  have  those  Indiana 
out  of  there  or  drop  a-trying.  They'll  be  back  in  a  minute.  The 
general  had  a  rousing  fight  with  Dull  Knife's  people  down  the  river 
last  evening.  You  missed  it  again,  Hull :  all  the  — th  were  there 
but  F  and  K, — and  of  course  old  Firewater  wants  to  make  as  big  a 
hit  here," 

"The  — th  fighting  down  the  river  last  night?"  asks  Hull,  in 
amaze. 

"  Yes, — swept  clean  round  them  and  ran  'em  into  the  stream,  they 
say.  I  wish  we  had  them  where  we  could  see  'em  at  all.  You  don't 
get  the  glimpse  of  a  head,  even ;  but  all  those  rocks  are  lined  with  the 
beggars.  Damn  them !"  says  the  adjutant,  feelingly. 

"  We'll  get  our  chance  here,  then,"  replies  Hull,  reflectively.  "  I'll 
creep  up  and  take  a  look  at  it.  Take  my  horse,  orderly." 

He  is  back  in  two  minutes,  graver  than  before,  but  his  bearing  is 
spirited  and  firm.  Hayne  watches  him  with  kindling  eye. 

"  You'll  take  me  in  with  you  when  you  charge  ?"  he  asks. 

"  It  is  no  place  to  charge  there.  The  ground  is  all  cut  up  with 
ravines  and  gullies,  and  they've  got  a  cross-fire  that  sweeps  it  clean. 
We'll  probably  go  in  on  the  other  flank ;  it's  more  open  there.  Here 
comes  the  chief  now." 

Two  officers  come  riding  hastily  around  a  projecting  point  of  the 
nlope  and  spur  at  rapid  gait  towards  the  spot  where  the  cavalry  have 
dismounted  and  are  breathing  their  horses.  There  is  hardly  time  for 


16  THE  DESERTER. 

salutations.  A  gray-headed,  keen-eyed,  florid-faced  old  soldier  is  the 
colonel,  and  he  is  snapping  with  electricity,  apparently. 

"  This  way,  Hull.  Come  right  here,  and  I'll  show  you  what  you 
are  to  do."  And,  followed  by  Rayner,  Hull,  and  Hayne,  the  chief 
rides  sharply  over  to  the  extreme  left  of  the  position  and  points  to  the 
frowning  ridge  across  the  intervening  swale  : 

"  There,  Hull :  there  are  twenty  or  thirty  of  the  rascals  in  there 
who  get  a  flank  fire  on  us  when  we  attack  on  our  side.  What  I  want 
you  to  do  is  to  mount  your  men,  let  them  draw  pistol  and  be  all  ready. 
Rayner,  here,  will  line  the  ridge  to  keep  them  down  in  front.  I'll  go 
back  to  the  right  and  order  the  attack  at  once.  The  moment  we  begin 
and  you  hear  our  shots,  you  give  a  yell,  and  charge  full  tilt  across  there, 
so  as  to  drive  out  those  fellows  in  that  ravine.  We  can  do  the  rest. 
Do  you  understand  ?" 

"  I  understand,  colonel ;  but is  it  your  order  that  I  attempt 

to  charge  mounted  across  that  ground  ?" 

"  Why,  certainly  !  It  isn't  the  best  in  the  world,  but  you  can  make 
it.  They  can't  do  very  much  damage  to  your  men  before  you  reach 
them.  It's  got  to  be  done ;  it's  the  only  way." 

"  Very  good,  sir :  that  ends  it !"  is  the  calm,  soldierly  reply ;  and 
the  colonel  goes  bounding  away. 

A  moment  later  the  troop  is  in  saddle,  eager,  wiry,  bronzed  fellows 
every  one,  and  the  revolvers  are  in  hand  and  being  carefully  exam- 
ined. Then  Captain  Hull  signals  to  Hayne,  while  Rayner  and  three 
or  four  soldiers  sit  in  silence,  watching  the  man  who  is  to  lead  the 
charge.  He  dismounts  at  a  little  knoll  a  few  feet  away,  tosses  his  reins 
to  the  trumpeter,  and  steps  to  his  saddle-bags.  Hayne,  too,  dismounts. 

Taking  his  watch  and  chain  from  the  pocket  of  his  hunting-shirt, 
he  opens  the  saddle-bag  on  the  near  side  and  takes  therefrom  two 
packets, — one  heavily  sealed, — which  he  hands  to  Hayne. 

"  In  case  I — don't  come  back,  you  know  what  to  do  with  these, — as 
I  told  you  last  night." 

Hayne  only  looks  imploringly  at  him  :  "  You  are  not  going  to  leave 
me  here,  captain  ?" 

"  Yes,  Hayne.  You  can't  go  with  us.  Hark  !  There  they  go  at 
the  right.  Are  the  packages  all  right?" 

Hayne,  with  stunned  faculties,  thinking  only  of  the  charge  he  longs 
to  make, — not  of  the  one  he  has  to  keep, — replies  he  knows  not  what. 
There  is  a  ringing  bugle-call  far  off  among  the  rocks  to  the  westward  • 


THE  DESERTER.  17 

A  rousing  cheer;  a  rattling  volley.  Bayner  springs  off  to  hia  men  on 
the  hill-side.  Hull  spurs  in  front  of  his  eager  troop,  holding  high  his 
pistol-hand : 

"  Now,  men,  follow  till  I  drop ;  and  then  keep  ahead  !  Come  on !" 
There  is  a  furious  sputter  of  hoofs,  a  rush  of  excited  steeds  up  the 
gentle  slope,  a  glad  outburst  of  cheers  as  they  sweep  across  the  ridge  and 
out  of  sight,  then  the  clamor  and  yell  of  frantic  battle ;  and  when  at 
last  it  dies  away,  the  Riflers  are  panting  over  the  hard- won  position  and 
shaking  hands  with  some  few  silent  cavalrymen.  They  have  carried 
the  ridge,  captured  the  migrating  village,  squaws,  ponies,  travois,  and 
pappooses ;  their  "  long  Toms"  have  sent  many  a  stalwart  warrior  to 
the  mythical  hunting-grounds,  and  the  peppery  colonel's  triumph  is 
complete. 

But  Lawrence  Hayne,  with  all  the  light  gone  from  his  brave  young 
face,  stands  mutely  looking  down  upon  the  stiffening  frame  of  his  father's 
old  friend,  and  his,  who  lies  shot  through  the  heart. 


IN  the  Pullman  car  of  the  westward-bound  express,  half-way  across 
the  continent,  two  passengers  were  gazing  listlessly  out  over  the  wintry 
landscape.  It  was  a  bitter  morning  in  February.  North  and  south 
the  treeless  prairie  rolled  away  in  successive  ridge  and  depression.  The 
snow  lay  deep  in  the  dry  ravines  and  streaked  the  sea-like  surface  with 
jagged  lines  of  foam  between  which  lay  broad  spaces  clean-swept  by 
the  gale.  Heavy  masses  of  cloud,  dark  and  forbidding,  draped  the 
sky  from  zenith  to  horizon,  and  the  air  was  thick  with  spiteful  gusts 
and  spits  of  snow,  crackling  against  the  window-panes,  making  fierce 
dashes  every  time  a  car  door  was  hurriedly  opened,  and  driving  about 
the  platforms  like  a  myriad  swarm  of  fleecy  and  aggressive  gnats  raging 
for  battle.  Every  now  and  then,  responsive  to  some  wilder  blast,  a 
blinding  white  cloud  came  whirling  from  the  depths  of  the  nearest 
gully  and  breaking  like  spray  over  the  snow  fence  along  the  line.  Not 
a  sign  of  life  was  visible.  The  tiny  mounds  in  the  villages  of  the 
prairie-dogs  seemed  blocked  and  frozen  ;  even  the  trusty  sentinel  had 
u  deserted  post"  and  huddled  with  his  fellows  for  warmth  and  shelter  in 
the  bowels  of  the  earth.  Fluttering  owl  and  skulking  coyote,  too,  had 

2* 


18  THE  DESERTER. 

vanished  from  the  face  of  nature.  Timid  antelope — fleetest  coursers 
of  the  prairie — and  stolid  horned  cattle  had  gone,  none  knew  whither, 
nor  cared  to  know  until  the  "  blizzard"  had  subsided.  Two  heavy  en- 
gines fought  their  way,  panting,  into  the  very  teeth  of  the  gale  and 
slowly  wound  the  long  train  after  them  up-grade  among  the  foot-hills 
of  the  great  plateau  of  the  Rockies.  Once  in  a  while,  when  stopping 
for  a  moment  at  some  group  of  brown-painted  sheds  and  earth-battened 
ahanties,  the  wind  moaned  and  howled  among  the  iron  braces  and 
brake-chains  beneath  the  car  and  made  such  mournful  noise  that  it  was 
a  relief  to  start  once  more  and  lose  sound  of  its  wailing  in  the  general 
rumble.  As  for  the  scenery,  only  as  a  picture  of  shiver-provoking 
monotony  and  desolation  would  one  care  to  take  a  second  look. 

And  yet,  some  miles  ahead,  striving  hard  to  reach  the  railway  in 
time  to  intercept  this  very  train,  a  small  battalion  of  cavalry  was 
struggling  through  the  blasts,  officers  and  men  afoot  and  dragging  their 
own  benumbed  limbs  and  half-benumbed  chargers  through  the  drifts 
that  lay  deep  at  the  bottom  of  every  "  coule"e."  Some  few  soldiers  re- 
mained in  saddle  :  they  were  too  frozen  to  walk  at  all.  Some  few  fell 
behind,  and  would  have  thrown  themselves  flat  upon  the  prairie  in  the 
lethargy  that  is  but  premonition  of  death  by  freezing.  Like  men  half 
deadened  by  morphine,  their  rescue  depended  on  heroic  measures,  hu- 
mane in  their  seeming  brutality.  Officers  who  at  other  times  were  all 
gentleness  now  fell  upon  the  hapless  stragglers  with  kicks  and  blows. 
As  the  train  drew  up  at  the  platform  of  a  station  in  mid-prairie,  a 
horseman  enveloped  in  fur  and  frost  and  steam  from  his  panting  steed 
reined  up  beside  the  leading  engine  and  shouted  to  the  occupants  of  the 
cab, — 

"  For  God's  sake  hold  on  a  few  minutes.  We've  got  a  dozen  frozen 
men  with  us  we  must  send  on  to  Fort  Warrener."  And  the  train  was 
held. 

Meantime,  those  far  to  the  rear  in  the  sleeper  knew  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on  ahead.  The  car  was  warm  and  comfortable,  and 
most  of  its  occupants  were  apparently  appreciative  of  its  shelter  and 
coseyness  in  contrast  with  the  cheerless  scene  without.  A  motherly- 
looking  woman  had  produced  her  knitting,  and  was  blithely  clicking 
away  at  her  needles,  while  her  enterprising  son,  a  youth  of  four  sum- 
mers and  undaunted  confidence  in  human  nature,  tacked  up  and  down 
the  aisle  and  made  impetuous  incursions  on  the  various  sections  by 
turns,  receiving  such  modified  welcome  as  could  be  accorded  features 


THE  DESERTER.  19 

streaked  with  mingled  candy  and  cinders,  and  fingers  whose  propensity 
to  cling  to  whatsoever  they  touched  was  due  no  more  to  instincts  of  a 
predatory  nature  than  to  the  adhesive  properties  of  the  glucose  which 
formed  so  large  a  constituent  of  the  confections  he  had  been  industri- 
ously consuming  since  early  morning.  Four  men  playing  whist  in  the 
rearmost  section,  two  or  three  commercial  travellers,  whose  intimacy 
with  the  porter  and  airs  of  easy  proprietorship  told  of  an  apparent 
controlling  interest  in  the  road,  a  young  man  of  reserved  manners, 
reading  in  a  section  all  by  himself,  a  baby  sleeping  quietly  upon  the  seat 
opposite  the  two  passengers  first  mentioned,  and  a  Maltese  kitten  curled 
up  in  the  lap  of  one  of  them,  completed  the  list  of  occupants. 

The  proximity  of  the  baby  and  the  kitten  furnishes  strong  pre- 
sumptive evidence  of  the  sex  and  general  condition  of  the  two  passengers 
referred  to,  and  renders  detail  superfluous.  A  baby  rarely  travels 
without  a  woman,  or  a  kitten  with  a  woman  already  encumbered  with 
a  baby.  The  baby  belonged  to  the  elder  passenger,  the  kitten  to  the 
younger.  The  one  was  a  buxom  matron,  the  other  a  slender  maid. 
In  their  ages  there  must  have  been  a  difference  of  fifteen  years ;  in 
feature  there  was  still  wider  disparity.  The  elder  was  a  fine-looking 
woman,  and  one  who  prided  herself  upon  the  Junoesque  proportions 
which  she  occasionally  exhibited  in  a  stroll  for  exercise  up  and  down 
the  aisle.  Yet  no  one  would  call  her  a  beauty.  Her  eyes  were  of  a 
somewhat  fishy  and  uncertain  blue ;  the  lids  were  tinged  with  an  un- 
ornamental  pink  that  told  of  irritation  of  the  adjacent  interior  surface 
and  of  possible  irritability  of  temper.  Her  complexion  was  of  that 
mottled  type  which  is  so  sore  a  trial  to  its  possessor  and  yet  so  inesti- 
mable a  comfort  to  social  rivals ;  but  her  features  were  handsome,  her 
teeth  fine,  her  dress,  bearing,  and  demeanor  those  of  a  woman  of  birth 
and  breeding,  and  yet  one  who  might  have  resented  the  intimation  that 
she  was  not  strikingly  handsome.  She  looked  like  a  woman  with  a 
will  of  her  own ;  her  head  was  high,  her  step  was  firm  ;  it  was  of  just 
such  a  walk  as  hers  that  Virgil  wrote  his  "  vera  incessu  patuit  dea" 
and  she  made  the  young  man  in  the  section  by  himself  think  of  that 
very  passage  as  he  glanced  at  her  from  under  his  heavy,  bushy  eye- 
brows. She  looked,  moreover,  like  a  woman  with  a  capacity  for  in- 
fluencing people  contrary  to  their  will  and  judgment,  and  with  a  decided 
fondness  for  the  exercise  of  that  unpopular  function.  There  was  the 
air  of  grande  dame  about  her,  despite  the  simplicity  of  her  dress,  which, 
though  of  rich  material,  was  severely  plain.  She  wore  no  jewelry.  Her 


20  THE  DESERTER. 

hands  were  snugly  gloved,  and  undisfigured  by  the  distortions  of  any 
ring  except  the  marriage  circlet.  Her  manner  attested  her  a  person  of 
consequence  in  her  social  circle  and  one  who  realized  the  fact.  She  had 
repelled,  though  without  rudeness  or  discourtesy,  the  garrulous  efforts 
of  the  motherly  knitter  to  be  sociable.  She  had  promptly  inspired  the 
small,  candy-crusted  explorer  with  such  awe  that  he  had  refrained  from 
further  visits  after  his  first  confiding  attempt  to  poke  a  sticky  finger 
through  the  baby's  velvety  cheek.  She  had  spared  little  scorn  in  her 
rejection  of  the  bourgeois  advances  of  the  commercial  traveller  with  the 
languishing  eyes  of  Israel :  he  confided  to  his  comrades,  in  relating  the 
incident,  that  she  was  smart  enough  to  see  that  it  wasn't  her  he  was 
hankering  to  know,  but  the  pretty  sister  by  her  side ;  and  when  chal- 
lenged to  prove  that  they  were  sisters, — a  statement  which  aroused  the 
scepticism  of  his  shrewd  associates, — he  had  replied,  substantially, — 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  'Cause  I  saw  their  pass  before  you  was  up  this 
morning,  cully.  It's  for  Mrs.  Captain  Rayner  and  sister,  and  they're 
going  out  here  to  Fort  Warrener.  That's  how  I  know."  And  the 
porter  of  the  car  had  confirmed  the  statement  in  the  sanctity  of  the 
smoking-room. 

And  yet — such  is  the  uncertainty  of  feminine  temperament — Mrs. 
Rayner  was  no  more  incensed  at  the  commercial  "  gent"  because  he  had 
obtruded  his  attentions  than  she  was  at  the  young  man  reading  in  his 
own  section  because  he  had  refrained.  Nearly  twenty-four  hours  had 
elapsed  since  they  crossed  the  Missouri,  and  in  all  that  time  not  once 
had  she  detected  in  him  a  glance  that  betrayed  the  faintest  interest  in 
her,  or — still  more  remarkable — in  the  unquestionably  lovely  girl  at  her 
side.  Intrusiveness  she  might  resent,  but  indifference  she  would  and 
did.  Who  was  this  youth,  she  wondered,  who  not  once  had  so  much  as 
stolen  a  look  at  the  sweet,  bonny  face  of  her  maiden  sister  ?  Surely 
'twas  a  face  any  man  would  love  to  gaze  upon, — so  fair,  so  exquisite 
in  contour  and  feature,  so  pearly  in  complexion,  so  lovely  in  the  deep, 
dark  brown  of  its  shaded  eyes. 

The  bold  glances  of  the  four  card-players  she  had  defiantly  returned, 
and  vanquished.  Those  men,  like  the  travelling  gents,  were  creatures 
of  coarser  mould ;  but  her  experienced  eye  told  her  the  solitary  occupant 
of  the  opposite  section  was  a  gentleman.  The  clear  cut  of  his  pale 
features,  the  white,  slender  hand  and  shapely  foot,  the  style  and  finish 
of  his  quiet  travelling-dress,  the  soft  modulation  and  refined  tone  of  his 
voice  on  the  one  occasion  when  she  heard  him  reply  to  some  importunity 


THE  DESERTER.  21 

ol  the  train-boy  with  his  endless  round  of  equally  questionable  figs  and 
fiction,  the  book  he  was  reading, — a  volume  of  Emerson, — all  combined 
to  speak  of  a  culture  and  position  equal  to  her  own.  She  had  been 
over  the  trans-continental  railways  often  enough  to  know  that  it  was 
permissible  for  gentlemen  to  render  their  fellow-passengers  some  slight 
attention  which  would  lead  to  mutual  introductions  if  desirable ;  and 
this  man  refused  to  see  that  the  opportunity  was  open  to  him. 

True,  when  first  she  took  her  survey  of  those  who  were  to  be  her 
fellow-travellers  at  the  "  transfer"  on  the  Missouri,  she  decided  that 
here  was  one  against  whom  it  would  be  necessary  to  guard  the  ap- 
proaches. She  had  good  and  sufficient  reasons  for  wanting  no  young 
man  as  attractive  in  appearance  as  this  one  making  himself  interest- 
ing to  pretty  Nellie  on  their  journey.  She  had  already  decided  what 
Nellie's  future  was  to  be.  Never,  indeed,  would  she  have  taken  her  to 
the  gay  frontier  station  whither  she  was  now  en  route,  had  not  that 
future  been  already  settled  to  her  satisfaction.  Nellie  Travers,  barely 
out  of  school,  was  betrothed,  and  willingly  so,  to  the  man  she,  her 
devoted  elder  sister,  had  especially  chosen.  Rare  and  most  unlikely 
of  conditions !  she  had  apparently  fallen  in  love  with  the  man  picked 
out  for  her  by  somebody  else.  She  was  engaged  to  Mrs.  Rayner's  fas- 
cinating friend  Mr.  Steven  Van  Antwerp,  a  scion  of  an  old  and  es- 
teemed and  wealthy  family ;  and  Mr.  Van  Antwerp,  who  had  been 
educated  abroad,  and  had  a  Heidelberg  scar  on  his  left  cheek,  and  dark, 
lustrous  eyes,  and  wavy  hair, — almost  raven, — was  a  devoted  lover, 
though  fully  fifteen  years  Miss  Nellie's  senior. 

Full  of  bliss  and  comfort  was  Mrs.  Rayner's  soul  as  she  journeyed 
westward  to  rejoin  her  husband  at  the  distant  frontier  post  she  had 
not  seen  since  the  early  spring.  Army  woman  as  she  was,  born  and 
bred  under  the  shadow  of  the  flag,  a  soldier's  daughter,  a  soldier's  wife, 
she  had  other  ambitions  for  her  beautiful  Nell.  Worldly  to  the  core, 
she  herself  would  never  have  married  in  the  army  but  for  the  unusual 
circumstance  of  a  wealthy  subaltern  among  the  officers  of  her  father's 
regiment.  Tradition  had  it  that  Mr.  Rayner  was  not  among  the  number 
of  those  who  sighed  for  Kate  Travers's  guarded  smiles.  Her  earlier 
victims  were  kept  a-dangling  until  Rayner,  too,  succumbed,  and  then 
were  sent  adrift.  She  meant  that  no  penniless  subaltern  should  carry  off 
her  "  baby  sister," — they  had  long  been  motherless, — and  a  season  at  the ' 
sea-shore  had  done  her  work  well.  Steven  Van  Antwerp,  with  genuine 
distress  and  loneliness,  went  back  to  his  duties  in  Wall  Street  after  see- 


22  THE  DESERTER. 

ing  them  safely  on  thtir  way  to  the  West.  "  Guard  her  well  for  me/' 
he  whispered  to  Mrs.  Rayner.  "  I  dread  those  fellows  in  buttons." 
And  he  shivered  unaccountably  as  he  spoke. 

Nellie  was  pledged,  therefore,  and  this  youth  in  the  Pullman  was 
not  one  of  "  those  fellows  in  buttons,"  so  far  as  Mrs.  Rayner  knew,  but 
she  was  ready  to  warn  him  off,  and  meant  to  do  so,  until,  to  her  surprise, 
she  saw  that  he  gave  no  symptom  of  a  desire  to  approach.  By  noon 
of  the  second  day  she  was  as  determined  to  extract  from  him  some  sign 
of  interest  as  she  had  been  determined  to  resent  it.  I  can  in  no  wise 
explain  or  account  for  this.  The  fact  is  stated  without  remark. 

"  What  on  earth  can  we  be  stopping  so  long  here  for  ?"  was  Mrs. 
Rayner's  somewhat  petulant  inquiry,  addressed  to  no  one  in  particular. 
There  was  no  reply.  Miss  Travers  was  busily  twitching  the  ears  of  the 
kitten  at  the  moment  and  sparring  with  upraised  finger  at  the  threaten- 
ing paw. 

"  Do  look  out  of  the  window,  Nell,  and  see." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  see,  Kate, — nothing  but  whirling  drifts  and  a 
big  water-tank  all  covered  with  ice.  Br-r-r-r  ,l  how  cold  it  looks  !" 
she  answered,  after  vainly  flattening  her  face  against  the  inner  pane. 

"There  must  be  something  the  matter,  though,"  persisted  Mrs. 
Rayner.  "  We  have  been  here  full  five  minutes,  and  we  are  behind 
time  now.  At  this  rate  we'll  never  get  to  Warrener  to-night.  I  do 
wish  the  porter  would  stay  here  where  he  belongs." 

The  young  man  quietly  laid  down  his  book  and  arose.  "  I  will 
inquire,  madame,"  he  said,  with  grave  courtesy.  "  You  shall  know  in  a 
moment." 

"  How  very  kind  of  you !"  said  the  lady.  "  Indeed  I  must  not 
trouble  you.  I'm  sure  the  porter  will  be  here  after  a  while." 

And  even  as  she  spoke,  and  as  he  was  pulling  on  an  overcoat,  tha 
train  rumbled  off  again.  Then  came  an  exclamation,  this  time  from 
the  younger : 

"  Why,  Kate !  Look  !  see  all  these  men, — and  horses  !  Why,  they 
are  soldiers, — cavalry  !  Oh,  how  I  love  to  see  them  again !  But,  oh, 
how  cold  they  look  ! — frozen  !" 

"  Who  can  they  be  ?"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  all  vehement  interest  now, 
and  gazing  eagerly  from  the  window  at  the  lowered  heads  of  the  horses 
and  the  muffled  figures  in  blue  and  fur.  "  What  can  they  be  doing  in 
the  field  in  such  awful  weather?  I  cannot  recognize  one  of  them, 


THE  DESERTER.  23 

or  tell  officers  from  men.  Surely  that  must  be  Captain  Wayne, — and 
Major  Stannard.  Oh,  what  can  it  mean  ?" 

The  young  man  had  suddenly  leaped  to  the  window  behind  them, 
and  was  gazing  out  with  an  eagerness  and  interest  little  less  apparent 
than  her  own,  but  in  a  moment  the  train  had  whisked  them  out  of  sight 
of  the  storm-beaten  troopers.  Then  he  hurried  to  the  rear  window  of 
the  car,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  as  hastily  followed. 

"  Do  you  know  them  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes.  That  was  Major  Stannard.  It  is  his  battalion  of  the  — th 
Cavalry,  and  they  have  been  out  scouting  after  renegade  Cheyennes. 
Pardon  me,  madame,  I  must  go  forward  and  see  who  have  boarded  the 
train." 

He  stopped  at  his  section,  and  again  she  followed  him,  her  eyes 
full  of  anxiety.  He  was  busy  tugging  at  a  flask  in  his  travelling- 
bag. 

"  You  know  them !  Do  you  know — have  you  heard  of  any  infantry 
being  out?  Pardon  me  for  detaining  you,  but  I  am  very  anxious. 
My  husband  is  Captain  Rayner,  of  Fort  Warrener." 

"  No  infantry  have  been  sent,  madame,  I have  reason  to  know ; 

at  least,  none  from  Warrener." 

And  with  that  he  hurriedly  bowed  and  left  her.  The  next  moment, 
flask  in  hand,  he  was  crossing  the  storm-swept  platform  and  making 
his  way  to  the  head  of  the  train. 

"I  believe  he  is  an  officer,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner  to  her  sister. 
"  Who  else  would  be  apt  to  know  about  the  movement  of  the  troops  ? 
Did  you  notice  how  gentle  his  manner  was  ? — and  he  never  smiled : 
he  has  such  a  sad  face.  Yet  he  can't  be  an  officer,  or  he  would  have 
made  himself  known  to  us  long  ago." 

"  Is  there  no  name  on  the  satchel?"  asked  Miss  Travers,  with  par- 
donable curiosity.  "  He  has  an  interesting  face, — not  handsome."  And 
a  dreamy  look  came  into  her  deep  eyes.  She  was  thinking,  no  doubt, 
of  a  dark,  oval,  distingu6  face  with  raven  hair  and  moustache.  The 
youth  in  the  travelling-suit  was  not  tall,  like  Steven, — not  singularly, 
zomantically  handsome,  like  Steven.  Indeed,  he  was  of  less  interest  to 
her  than  to  her  married  sister. 

Mrs.  Rayner  could  see  no  name  on  the  satchel, — only  two  initials ; 
and  they  revealed  very  little. 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  peep  at  the  fly-leaf  of  that  book,"  she  said. 
u  He  walked  just  like  a  soldier  ;  but  there  isn't  anything  there  to  indi- 


24  THE  DESERTER. 

cate  what  he  is,"  she  continued,  with  a  doubtful  glance  at  the  item? 
scattered  about  the  now  vacant  section.  "  Why  isn't  that  porter  here  ? 
He  ought  to  know  who  people  are." 

As  though  to  answer  her  request,  in  came  the  porter,  dishevelled  and 
breathless.  He  made  straight  for  the  satchel  they  had  been  scrutinizing, 
and  opened  it  without  ceremony.  Both  ladies  regarded  this  proceeding 
with  natural  astonishment,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  was  about  to  interfere  and 
question  his  right  to  search  the  luggage  of  passengers,  when  the  man 
turned  hurriedly  towards  them,  exhibiting  a  little  bundle  of  handker- 
chiefs, his  broad  Ethiopian  face  clouded  with  anxiety  and  concern  : 

"  The  gentleman  told  me  to  take  all  his  handkerchiefs.  We'se  got 
a  dozen  frozen  soldiers  in  the  baggage-car, — some  of  'em  mighty  bad, — 
and  they'se  tryin'  to  make  'em  comfortable  until  they  get  to  the  fort." 

"  Soldiers  frozen  !  Why  do  you  take  them  in  the  baggage-car  ? — 
such  a  barn  of  a  place !  Why  weren't  they  brought  here,  where  we 
could  make  them  warm  and  care  for  them  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Rayner, 
in  impulsive  indignation. 

"  Laws,  ma'am  !  never  do  in  the  world  to  bring  frozen  people 
into  a  hot  car  !  Sure  to  make  their  ears  an'  noses  drop  off,  that  would  ! 
Got  to  keep  'em  in  the  cold  and  pile  snow  around  'em.  That  gentle- 
man sittin'  here, — he  knows,"  he  continued  :  "  he's  an  officer,  and  him 
and  the  doctor's  workin'  with  'em  now." 

And  Mrs.  Rayner,  vanquished  by  a  statement  of  facts  well  known 
to  her  yet  forgotten  in  the  first  impetuosity  of  her  criticism,  relapsed 
into  the  silence  of  temporary  defeat. 

"  He  is  an  officer,  then,"  said  Miss  Travers,  presently.  "  I  wonder 
what  he  belongs  to." 

"  Not  to  our  regiment,  I'm  sure.  Probably  to  the  cavalry.  He 
knew  Major  Stannard  and  other  officers  whom  we  passed  there." 

"Did  he  speak  to  them?" 

"  No :  there  was  no  time.  We  were  beyond  hearing-distance  when 
he  ran  to  the  back  door  of  the  car ;  and  there  was  no  time  before  that. 
But  it's  very  odd  !" 

"What's  very  odd?" 

"  Why,  his  conduct.  It  is  so  strange  that  he  has  not  made  himself 
known  to  us,  if  he's  an  officer." 

"  Probably  he  doesn't  know  you — or  we — are  connected  with  the 
army,  Kate." 


THE  DESERTER.  25 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  does.  The  porter  knows  perfectly  well,  and  I  toJd 
him  just  before  he  left." 

"  Yes,  but  he  didn't  know  before  that  time,  did  he?" 

"  He  ought  to  have  known,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  uncompromisingly. 
"  At  least,  he  should  if  he  had  taken  the  faintest  interest.  I  mentioned 
Captain  Rayner  so  that  he  could  not  help  hearing." 

This  statement  being  one  that  Miss  Travers  could  in  no  wise  con- 
tradict,— as  it  was  one,  indeed,  that  Mrs.  Rayner  could  have  dispensed 
with  as  unnecessary, — the  younger  lady  again  betook  herself  to  silence 
and  pulling  the  kitten's  ears. 

"  Even  if  he  didn't  know  before,"  continued  her  sister,  after  a  pause 
in  which  she  had  apparently  been  brooding  over  the  indifference  of  the 
young  man  in  question,  "  he  ought  to  have  made  himself  known  after 
I  told  him  who  I  was."  Another  pause.  "  That's  what  I  did  it  for," 
she  wound  up,  conclusively. 

"And  that's  what  I  thought,"  said  Miss  Travers,  with  a  quiet 
smile.  "  However,  he  had  no  time  then  :  he  was  hurrying  off  to  see 
whether  any  of  the  soldiers  had  come  on  board.  He  took  his  flask 
with  him,  and  apparently  was  in  haste  to  offer  some  one  a  drink.  I'm 
sure  that  is  what  papa  used  to  do,"  she  added,  as  she  saw  a  frown 
gathering  on  her  sister's  face. 

"  What  paj>a  did  just  after  the  war — a  time  when  everybody  drank 
— is  not  at  all  the  proper  thing  now.  Captain  Rayner  never  touches 
it ;  and  I  don't  allow  it  in  the  house." 

"  Still,  I  should  think  it  a  very  useful  article  when  a  lot  of  frozen 
and  exhausted  men  are  on  one's  hands,"  said  Miss  Travers.  "  That 
was  but  a  small  ilask  he  had,  and  I'm  sure  they  will  need  more." 

There  came  a  rush  of  cold  air  from  the  front,  and  the  swinging 
door  blew  open  ahead  of  the  porter,  who  was  heard  banging  shut  the 
outer  portal.  Then  he  hurried  in. 

"Can  some  of  you  gentlemen  oblige  me  with  some  whiskey  or 
brandy  ?"  he  asked.  "  We've  got  some  frozen  soldiers  aboard.  Two 
of  'em  are  pretty  nearly  gone." 

Two  of  the  card-players  dropped  their  hands  and  started  for  their 
section  at  once.  Before  they  could  rummage  in  their  bags  for  the  re- 
quired article,  Mrs.  Rayner's  voice  was  heard :  "  Take  this,  porter." 
And  she  held  forth  a  little  silver  flask.  "  I  have  more  in  my  trunk 
if  it  is  needed,"  she  added,  while  a  blush  mounted  to  her  forehead 
as  she  saw  the  quizzical  smile  on  her  sister's  face.  "You  know  I 
B  3 


26  THE  DESERTER. 

always  carry  it  in  travelling,  Nellie, — in  case  of  accident  or  illness; 
and  I'm  most  thankful  I  have  it  now." 

"  Ever  so  much  obliged,  ma'am,"  said  the  porter,  "  but  this  would 
be  only  a  thimbleful,  and  I  can  get  a  quart  bottle  of  this  gentleman." 

"Where  are  they?"  said  the  person  thus  referred  to,  as  he  came 
down  the  aisle  with  a  big  brown  bottle  in  his  hand.  "  Come,  Jim, 
let's  go  and  see  what  we  can  do.  One  of  you  gentlemen  take  my  place 
in  the  game,"  he  continued,  indicating  the  commercial  gents,  two  of 
whom,  nothing  loath,  dropped  into  the  vacated  seats,  while  the  others 
pushed  on  to  the  front  of  the  train.  The  porter  hesitated  one  moment. 

"  Yes,  take  my  flask :  I  shouldn't  feel  satisfied  without  doing  some- 
thing. And  please  say  to  the  officer  that  I'm  Mrs.  Rayner, — Mrs. 
Captain  Rayner,  of  the  infantry, — and  ask  if  there  isn't  something  I 
can  do  to  help." 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  I  will,  ma'am.  Oh,  he  knows  who  you  are :  I 
done  told  him  last  night.  He's  goin'  to  Fort  Warrener,  too."  And, 
touching  his  cap,  away  went  the  porter. 

"  There  !  He  did  know  all  along,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  trium- 
phantly. "  It  is  most  extraordinary  !" 

"  Well,  is  it  the  proper  thing  for  people  in  the  army  to  introduce 
themselves  when  travelling  ?  How  are  they  to  know  it  will  be  agree- 
able?" 

"  Agreeable !  Why,  Nellie,  it's  always  done, — especially  when 
ladies  are  travelling  without  escort,  as  we  are.  The  commonest  civility 
should  prompt  it ;  and  officers  always  send  their  cards  by  the  porter  the 
moment  they  find  army  ladies  are  on  the  train.  I  don't  understand 
this  one  at  all, — especially "  But  here  she  broke  off  abruptly. 

"  Especially  what  ?"  asked  Miss  Nell,  with  an  inspiration  of  maid- 
enly curiosity. 

"  Especially  nothing.  Never  mind  now."  And  here  the  baby  began 
to  fidget,  and  stir  about,  and  stretch  forth  his  chubby  hands,  and  thrust 
his  knuckles  in  his  eyes,  and  pucker  up  his  face  in  alarming  contortions 
preparatory  to  a  wail,  and,  after  one  or  two  soothing  and  tentative 
sounds  of  "sh — sh — sh — sh"  from  the  maternal  lips,  the  matron 
abandoned  the  attempt  to  induce  a  second  nap,  and  picked  him  up  in 
her  arms,  where  he  presently  began  to  take  gracious  notice  of  his  pretty 
aunt  and  the  kitten. 

Two  hours  later,  just  as  the  porter  had  notified  them  that  "W  arrenei 
Station  would  be  in  sight  in  five  minutes,  the  young  man  of  the  oppo- 


THE  DESERTER.  27 

site  section  returned  to  the  car.  He  looked  tired,  very  anxious,  and  his 
face  was  paler  and  the  sad  expression  more  pronounced  than  before. 
The  train-conductor  stopped  him  to  speak  of  some  telegrams  that  had 
been  sent,  and  both  ladies  noted  the  respect  which  the  railway  official 
threw  into  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke.  The  card-players  stopped  their 
game  and  went  up  to  ask  after  the  frozen  men.  It  was  not  until  the 
whistle  was  sounding  for  the  station  that  he  stood  before  them  and  with 
a  grave  and  courteous  bow  held  forth  Mrs.  Rayner's  silver  flask. 

"  It  was  a  blessing  to  one  poor  fellow  at  least,  and  I  thank  you  for 
him,  madame,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  been  so  anxious.  I  wanted  to  do  something.  Did  you 

not  get  my  message,  Mr. ?"  she  asked,  with  intentional  pause  that 

he  might  supply  the  missing  name. 

"Indeed  there  was  nothing  we  could  ask  of  you,"  he  answered, 
totally  ignoring  the  evident  invitation.  "  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you 
for  your  kindness,  but  we  had  abundant  help,  and  you  really  could  not 
have  reached  the  car  in  the  face  of  this  gale.  Good-morning,  madame." 
And  with  that  he  raised  his  fur  travelling-cap  and  quickly  turned  to  hia 
section  and  busied  himself  strapping  up  his  various  belongings. 

"  The  man  must  be  a  woman-hater,"  she  whispered  to  Miss  Travers, 
u  He's  going  to  get  out  here,  too.  Who  can  he  be  ?" 

There  was  still  a  moment  before  the  train  would  stop  at  the  plat- 
form, and  she  was  not  to  be  beaten  so  easily.  Bending  partly  across 
the  aisle,  she  spoke  again  : 

"  You  have  been  so  kind  to  those  poor  fellows  that  I  feel  sure  you 
must  be  of  the  army.  I  think  I  told  you  I  am  Mrs.  Rayner,  of  Fort, 
Warrener.  May  we  not  hope  to  see  you  there  ?" 

A  deep  flush  rose  to  his  forehead,  suffusing  his  cheeks,  and  passed 
as  quickly  away.  His  mouth  twitched  and  trembled.  Gazing  at  him 
in  surprise  and  trouble,  Nellie  Travers  saw  that  his  face  was  full  of 
pain  and  was  turning  white  again.  He  half  choked  before  he  could 
reply :  he  spoke  low,  and  yet  distinctly,  and  the  words  were  full  of 
sadness : 

"  It — it  is  not  probable  that  we  shall  meet  at  all." 

And  with  that  he  turned  away. 


28  THE  DESERTER. 


II. 

Even  in  the  excitement  attendant  upon  their  reception  at  the  sta- 
tion neither  Mrs.  Rayner  nor  her  sister  could  entirely  recover  from  the 
surprise  and  pain  which  the  stranger's  singular  words  had  caused.  So  far 
from  feeling  in  the  least  rebuffed,  Mrs.  Rayner  well  understood  from 
his  manner  that  not  the  faintest  discourtesy  was  intended.  There  was 
not  a  symptom  of  rudeness,  not  a  vestige  of  irritation  or  haste,  in  his 
tone.  Deep  embarrassment,  inexpressible  sadness  even,  she  read  in  the 
brief  glimpse  she  had  of  his  paling  face.  It  was  all  a  mystery  to  her 
and  to  the  girl  seated  in  silence  by  her  side.  Both  followed  him  with 
their  eyes  as  he  hurried  away  to  the  rear  of  the  car,  and  then,  with 
joyous  shouts,  three  or  four  burly,  fur-enveloped  men  came  bursting 
in  the  front  door,  and  the  two  ladies,  the  baby,  and  the  kitten  were 
pounced  upon  and  surrounded  by  a  group  that  grew  larger  every  min- 
ute. Released  finally  from  the  welcoming  embrace  of  her  stalwart 
husband,  Mrs.  Rayner  found  time  to  present  the  other  and  younger 
officers  to  her  sister.  As  many  as  half  a  dozen  had  followed  the  cap- 
tain in  his  wild  rush  upon  the  car,  and,  while  he  and  his  baby  boy 
were  resuming  acquaintanceship  after  a  separation  of  many  long 
months,  Miss  Travers  found  herself  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  young 
officers  who  had  braved  the  wintry  blizzard  in  their  eagerness  to  do 
her  proper  homage.  Her  cheeks  were  aflame  with  excitement  and 
pleasure,  her  eyes  dancing,  and  despite  the  fatigue  of  her  long  journey 
she  was  looking  dangerously  pretty,  as  Captain  Rayner  glanced  for  a 
moment  from  the  baby's  wondering  eyes,  took  in  the  picture  like  an 
instantaneous  photograph,  and  then  looked  again  into  Mrs.  Rayner'a 
smiling  face. 

"  You  were  wise  in  providing  against  possibilities  as  you  did,  Kate," 
he  said,  with  a  significant  nod  of  the  head.  "  There  are  as  many  as  a 
dozen  of  them, — or  at  least  there  will  be  when  the  — th  gets  back  from 
the  field.  Stannard  is  out  yet  with  his  battalion." 

"  Oh,  yes :  we  saw  them  at  a  station  east  of  here.  They  looked 
frozen  to  death ;  and  there  are  ever  so  many  of  the  soldiers  frozen. 
The  baggage-car  is  full  of  them.  Didn't  you  know  it  ?" 

"Not  a  word  of  it.  We  have  been  here  for  three  mortal  hours 
waiting  at  the  station,  and  any  telegrams  must  have  been  sent  rignt  out 
to  the  fort.  The  colonel  is  there,  and  he  would  have  all  arrangements 


THE  DESERTER.  29 

made.  Here,  Graham  !  Foster !  Mrs.  Rayner  says  there  are  a  lot 
of  frozen  cavalrymen  forward  in  the  baggage-car.  Run  ahead  and  see 
what  is  necessary,  will  you  ?  I'll  be  there  in  a  minute,  as  soon  as  we've 
got  these  ladies  off  the  train." 

Two  of  the  young  gentlemen  who  had  been  hovering  around  Miss 
Travers  took  themselves  off  without  a  moment's  delay.  The  others 
remained  to  help  their  senior  officer.  Out  into  the  whirling  eddies 
of  snow,  bundling  them  up  in  the  big,  warm  capes  of  their  regulation 
overcoats,  the  officers  half  led,  half  carried  their  precious  charges. 
The  captain  bore  his  son  and  heir;  Lieutenant  Ross  escorted  Mrs. 
.Rayner  ;  two  others  devoted  themselves  exclusively  to  Miss  Travers ;  a 
fourth  picked  up  the  Maltese  kitten.  Two  or  three  smart,  trim-looking 
infantry  soldiers  cleared  the  section  of  bags  and  bundles  of  shawls,  and 
the  entire  party  was  soon  within  the  door-way  of  the  waiting-room, 
where  a  red-hot  coal-stove  glowed  fierce  welcome.  Here  the  ladies 
were  left  for  a  moment,  while  all  the  officers  again  bustled  out  into  the 
storm  and  fought  their  way  against  the  northwest  gale  until  they 
reached  the  little  crowd  gathered  about  the  door-way  of  the  freight- 
sheds.  A  stout,  short,  burly  man  in  beaver  overcoat  and  cap  pushed 
through  the  knot  of  half-numbed  spectators  and  approached  their 
leader . 

"  We  have  only  two  ambulances,  captain, — that  is  all  there  was  at 
the  post  when  the  despatch  came, — and  there  are  a  dozen  of  these  men, 
besides  Dr.  Grimes,  all  more  or  less  crippled,  and  Grimes  has  both 
hands  frozen.  We  must  get  them  out  at  once.  Can  we  take  your 


"  Certainly,  doctor.  Take  anything  we  have.  If  the  storm  holds, 
tell  the  driver  not  to  try  to  come  back  for  us.  We  can  make  the  ladies 
comfortable  here  at  the  hotel  for  the  night.  Some  of  the  officers  have 
to  get  back  for  duties  this  evening.  The  rest  will  have  to  stay.  How 
did  they  happen  to  get  caught  in  such  a  freeze  ?" 

"  They  couldn't  help  it.  Stannard  had  chased  the  Cheyennes  across 
the  range,  and  was  ordered  to  get  back  to  the  railway.  It  was  twenty 
below  when  they  started,  and  they  made  three  days'  chase  in  that 
weather ;  but  no  one  seemed  to  care  so^  long  as  they  were  on  the  trail. 
Then  came  the  change  of  wind,  and  a  driving  snow-storm,  in  which 
they  lost  the  trail  as  a  matter  of  course ;  and  then  this  blizzard  struck 
them  on  the  back-track.  Grimes  is  so  exhausted  that  he  could  barely 
hold  out  until  he  got  here.  He  savs  he  never  could  have  brought 

3*  " 


30  THE  DESERTER. 

them  through  from  Bluff  Siding  but  for  Mr.  Hayne :  he  did  every- 
thing." 

"  Mr.  Hayne !    Was  he  with  them  ?" 

"He  was  on  the  train,  and  came  in  at  once  to  offer  his  services. 
Grimes  says  he  was  invaluable." 

"  But  Mr.  Hayne  was  East  on  leave :  I  know  he  was.  He  was 
promoted  to  my  company  last  month, — confound  the  luck ! — and  was 
to  have  six  months'  leave  before  joining.  I  wish  it  was  six  years. 
Where  is  he  now  ?"  And  the  captain  peered  excitedly  around  from 
under  his  shaggy  cap.  Oddly,  too,  his  face  was  paling. 

"He  left  as  soon  as  I  took  charge.  I  don't  know  where  he's 
gone;  but  it's  God's  mercy  he  was  with  these  poor  fellows.  His 
skill  and  care  have  done  everything  for  them.  Where  did  he  get 
his  knowledge?" 

"I've  no  idea,"  said  Captain  Kayner,  gruffly,  and  in  evident  ill 
humor.  "  He  is  the  last  man  I  expected  to  see  this  day  or  for  days  to 
come.  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do,  doctor?" 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,  captain."  And  the  little  surgeon  hastened 
back  to  his  charges,  followed  by  some  of  the  younger  officers,  eager  to 
be  of  assistance  in  caring  for  their  disabled  comrades.  Rayner  himself 
hesitated  a  moment,  then  turned  about  and  trudged  heavily  back  along 
the  wind-swept  platform.  The  train  had  pulled  away,  and  was  out  of 
sight  in  the  whirl  of  snow  over  the  Western  prairies.  He  went  to  his 
own  substantial  wagon,  and  shouted  to  the  driver,  who  sat  muffled  in 
buffalo  fur  on  the  box, — 

"Get  around  there  to  the  freight-house  and  report  to  the  doctor. 
There  are  a  lot  of  frozen  cavalrymen  to  be  taken  out  to  the  hospital. 
Don't  try  to  come  back  for  us  to  night :  we'll  stay  here  in  town.  Send 
the  quartermaster's  team  in  for  the  trunks  as  soon  as  the  storm  is  over 
and  the  road  clear.  That's  all." 

Then  he  rejoined  the  party  at  the  waiting-room  of  the  station,  and 
Mrs.  Rayner  noted  instantly  that  all  the  cheeriness  had  gone  and  that 
a  cloud  had  settled  on  his  face.  She  was  a  shrewd  observer,  and  she 
knew  him  well.  Something  more  serious  than  a  mishap  to  a  squad 
of  soldiers  had  brought  about  the  sudden  change.  He  was  all  glad 
ness,  all  rejoicing  and  delight,  when  he  clasped  her  and  his  baby  boy 
in  his  arms  but  ten  minutes  before,  and  now — something  had  occurred 
to  bring  him  serious  discomfort.  She  rested  her  hand  on  his  arm 
and  looked  questioningly  in  his  face.  He  avoided  her  glance,  and 


THE  DESERTER.  31 

quickly  began  to  talk  She  saw  that  he  desired  to  answer  no  questions 
just  then,  and  wisely  refrained. 

Meantime,  Miss  Travers  was  chatting  blithely  with  two  young  gal- 
\ants  who  had  returned  to  her  side,  and  who  had  thrown  off  their  heavy 
furs  and  now  stood  revealed  in  their  becoming  undress  uniforms.  Mr. 
Ross  had  gone  to  look  over  the  rooms  which  the  host  of  the  railway 
hotel  had  offered  for  the  use  of  the  party ;  the  baby  was  yielding  to  the 
inevitable  and  gradually  condescending  to  notice  the  efforts  of  Mr. 
Foster  to  scrape  acquaintance ;  the  kitten,  with  dainty  step,  and  ears 
and  tail  erect,  was  making  a  leisurely  inspection  of  the  premises,  sniff- 
ing about  the  few  benches  and  chairs  with  which  the  bare  room  was 
burdened,  and  reconnoitring  the  door  leading  to  the  hall-way  with  evi- 
dent desire  to  extend  her  researches  in  that  direction.  Presently  that 
very  door  opened,  and  in  came  two  or  three  bundles  of  fur  in  masculine 
shape,  and  with  them  two  shaggy  deer-hounds,  who  darted  straight  at 
the  kitten.  There  was  a  sudden  flurry  and  scatter,  a  fury  of  spits  and 
scratching,  a  yelp  of  pain  from  one  brute  with  lacerated  nose,  a  sudden 
recoil  of  both  hounds,  and  then  a  fiery  rush  through  the  open  door-way 
in  pursuit  of  puss.  After  the  first  gallant  instinct  of  battle  her  nerve 
had  given  out,  and  she  had  sought  safety  in  flight. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  them  hurt  her  !'  cried  Miss  Travers,  as  she  darted 
into  the  hall  and  gazed  despairingly  up  the  stairway  to  the  second  story, 
whither  the  dogs  had  vanished  like  a  flash.  Two  of  the  young  officers 
sped  to  the  rescue  and  turned  the  wrong  way.  Mrs.  Rayner  and  the 
captain  followed  her  into  the  hall.  A  rush  of  canine  feet  and  an  ex- 
cited chorus  of  barks  and  yelps  were  heard  aloft ;  then  a  stern  voice 
ordering,  "  Down,  you  brutes !"  a  sudden  howl  as  though  in  response 
to  a  vigorous  kick,  and  an  instant  later,  bearing  the  kitten,  ruffled,  ter- 
rified, and  wildly  excited,  yet  unharmed,  there  came  springing  lightly 
down  the  steps  the  young  man  in  civilian  dress  who  was  their  fellow- 
traveller  on  the  Pullman.  Without  a  word  he  gave  his  prize  into  the 
dainty  hands  outstretched  to  receive  it,  and,  never  stopping  an  instant, 
never  listening  to  the  eager  words  of  thanks  from  her  pretty  lips,  he 
darted  back  as  quickly  as  he  came,  leaving  Miss  Travers  suddenly 
stricken  dumb. 

Captain  Rayner  turned  sharply  on  his  heel  and  stepped  back  into 
the  waiting-room.  Mr.  Ross  nudged  a  brother  lieutenant  and  whis- 
pered, "  By  gad  !  that's  awkward  for  Midas  !"  The  two  subalterns 
who  had  taken  the  wrong  turn  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  reappeared  there 


32  THE  DESERTER. 

just  as  the  rescuer  shot  past  them  on  his  way  back,  and  stood  staring, 
first  after  his  disappearing  form,  and  then  at  each  other.  Miss  Travers, 
with  wonder  and  relief  curiously  mingled  in  her  sweet  face,  clung  to 
her  restored  kitten  and  gazed  vacantly  up  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  Rayner  looked  confusedly  from  one  to  the  other,  quickly 
noting  the  constraint  in  the  manner  of  every  officer  present  and  the 
sudden  disappearance  of  her  husband.  There  was  an  odd  silence  for 
a  moment :  then  she  spoke  : 

"  Mr.  Ross,  do  you  know  that  gentleman  ?" 

"I  know  who  he  is.     Yes." 

"Who  is  he,  then?" 

"  He  is  your  husband's  new  first  lieutenant,  Mrs.  Rayner.  That  is 
Mr.  Hayne." 

"  That ! — Mr.  Hayne  ?"  she  exclaimed,  growing  suddenly  pale. 

"  Certainly,  madame.     Had  you  never  seen  him  before  ?" 

"  Never  ;  and  I  expected — I  didn't  expect  to  see  such  a "  And 

she  broke  short  off,  confused  and  plainly  distressed,  turned  abruptly,  and 
left  the  hall  as  had  her  husband. 


III. 

The  officers  of  Fort  Warrener  were  assembled,  as  was  the  daily 
morning  custom,  in  the  presence  of  the  colonel  commanding.  It  had 
long  been  the  practice  of  that  veteran  soldier  to  require  all  his  com- 
missioned subordinates  to  put  in  an  appearance  at  his  office  immediately 
after  the  ceremony  of  guard-mounting.  He  might  have  nothing  to  say 
to  them,  or  he  might  have  a  good  deal ;  and  he  was  a  man  capable 
of  saying  a  good  deal  in  very  few  words,  and  meaning  exactly  what  he 
said.  It  was  his  custom  to  look  up  from  his  writing  as  each  officer 
entered  and  respond  to  the  respectful  salutation  tendered  him  with  an 
equally  punctilious  "  Good-morning,  Captain  Gregg,"  or  "  Good-morn- 
ing, Mr.  Blake," — never  omitting  the  mention  of  the  name,  unless,  as 
was  sometimes  tried,  a  squad  of  them  came  in  together  and  made  their 
obeisance  as  a  body.  In  this  event  the  colonel  simply  looked  each  man 
in  the  face,  as  though  taking  mental  note  of  the  individual  constituents 
of  the  group,  and  contented  himself  with  a  "  Good-morning,  gentle- 
men." 

When  in  addition  to  six  troops  of  his  own  regiment  of  cavalry 
there  were  sent  to  the  post  a  major  and  four  companies  of  infantry, 


THE  DESERTER.  33 

some  of  the  junior  officers  of  the  latter  organization  had  suggested  to 
their  comrades  of  the  yellow  stripes  that  as  the  colonel  had  no  roll-call 
it  might  be  a  matter  of  no  great  risk  to  "  cut  the  matinee"  on  some  of 
the  fiendishly  cold  mornings  that  soon  set  in  ;  but  the  experiment  was 
never  designedly  tried,  thanks,  possibly,  to  the  frank  exposition  of  his 
personal  views  as  expressed  by  Lieutenant  Blake,  of  the  cavalry,  who 
said,  "  Try  it  if  you  are  stagnating  for  want  of  a  sensation,  my  genial 
plodder,  but  not  if  you  value  the  advice  of  one  who  has  been  there,  so 
to  speak.  The  chief  will  spot  you  quicker  than  he  can  a  missing  shoe, 
— a  missing  Aorseshoe,  Johnny,  let  me  elaborate  for  your  comprehen- 
sion,— and  the  next  question  will  be,  '  Mr.  Bluestrap,  did  you  inten- 
tionally absent  yourself?'  and  then  how  will  you  get  out  of  it  ?" 

The  matinees,  so  called,  were  by  no  means  unpopular  features  of 
the  daily  routine.  The  officers  were  permitted  to  bring  their  pipes  or 
cigars  and  take  their  after-breakfast  smoke  in  the  big,  roomy  office  of 
the  commander,  just  as  they  were  permitted  to  enjoy  the  post-prandial 
whiff  when  at  evening  recitation  in  the  same  office  they  sat  around  the 
room,  chatting  in  low  tones,  for  half  an  hour,  while  the  colonel  re- 
ceived the  reports  of  his  adjutant,  the  surgeon,  and  the  old  and  the  new 
officer  of  the  day.  Then  any  matters  affecting  the  discipline  or  in- 
struction or  general  interests  of  the  command  were  brought  up ;  both 
sides  of  the  question  were  presented,  if  question  arose ;  the  decision 
was  rendered  then  and  there,  and  the  officers  were  dismissed  for  the 
day  with  the  customary  "  That's  all,  gentlemen."  They  left  the  office 
well  knowing  that  only  in  the  event  of  some  sudden  emergency  would 
they  be  called  thither  again  or  disturbed  in  their  daily  vocations  until 
the  same  hour  on  the  following  morning.  Meantime,  they  must  be 
about  their  work  :  drills,  if  weather  permitted ;  stable-duty,  no  matter 
what  the  weather;  garrison  courts,  boards  of  survey,  the  big  general 
court  that  was  perennially  dispensing  justice  at  the  post,  and  the  long 
list  of  minor  but  none  the  less  exacting  demands  on  the  time  and 
attention  of  the  subalterns  and  company  commanders.  The  colonel 
was  a  strict,  even  severe,  disciplinarian,  but  he  was  cool,  deliberate,  and 
just.  He  "  worked"  his  officers,  and  thereby  incurred  the  criticism  of 
a  few,  but  held  the  respect  of  all.  He  had  been  a  splendid  cavalry- 
commander  in  the  field  of  all  others  where  his  sterling  qualities  were 
«ure  to  find  responsive  appreciation  in  his  officers  and  men,— on  active 
and  stirring  campaigns  against  the  Indians, — and  among  his  own  regi- 
ment he  knew  that  deep  in  their  hearts  the  — th  respected  and 
B* 


34  THE  DESERTER. 

believed  in  him,  even  when  they  growled  at  garrison  exactions  which 
seemed  uncalled  for.  The  infantry  officers  knew  less  of  him  as  a  ster- 
ling campaigner,  and  were  not  so  well  pleased  with  his  discipline.  It 
was  all  right  for  him  to  "  rout  out"  every  mother's  son  in  the  cavalry 
at  reveille,  because  all  the  cavalry  officers  had  to  go  to  stables  soon 
afterwards, — that  was  all  they  were  fit  for, — but  what  on  earth  was  the 
use  of  getting  them — the  infantry — out  of  their  warm  beds  before 
sunrise  on  a  wintry  morning  and  having  no  end  of  roll-calls  and  such 
things  through  the  day,  "just  to  keep  them  busy"  ?  The  real  objection 
— the  main  objection — to  the  colonel's  system  was  that  it  kept  a  large 
number  of  officers,  most  of  whom  were  educated  gentlemen,  hammer- 
ing all  day  long  at  an  endless  routine  of  trivial  duties,  allowing  actually 
no  time  in  which  they  could  read,  study,  or  improve  their  minds ;  but, 
as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  the  three  young  gentlemen  who  decided  to 
present  to  the  colonel  this  view  of  the  case  had  been  devoting  what 
spare  time  they  could  find  to  a  lively  game  of  poker  down  at  "  the 
store,"  and  their  petition  for  "more  time  to  themselves"  brought  down 
a  reply  from  the  oracular  lips  of  the  commander  that  became  immortal 
on  the  frontier  and  made  the  petitioners  nearly  frantic.  For  a  week 
the  trio  was  the  butt  of  all  the  wits  at  Fort  Warrener.  And  yet  the  en- 
tire commissioned  force  felt  that  they  were  being  kept  at  the  grindstone 
because  of  the  frivolity  of  these  few  youngsters,  and  they  did  not  like 
it.  All  the  same  the  cavalrymen  stuck  up  for  their  colonel,  and  the  in- 
fantrymen respected  him,  and  the  matin&es  were  business-like  and  profit- 
able. They  were  rarely  unpleasant  in  any  feature ;  but  this  particular 
morning — two  days  after  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Rayner  and  her  sister — 
there  had  been  a  scene  of  somewhat  dramatic  interest,  and  the  groups 
of  officers  in  breaking  up  and  going  away  could  discuss  nothing  else. 
The  colonel  had  requested  one  of  their  number  to  remain,  as  he  wished 
to  speak  to  him  further ;  and  that  man  was  Lieutenant  Hayne. 

Seven  years  had  that  young  gentleman  been  a  second  lieutenant 
of  the  regiment  of  infantry  a  detachment  of  which  was  now  stationed 
at  Warrener.  Only  this  very  winter  had  promotion  come  to  him ; 
and,  of  all  companies  in  the  regiment,  he  was  gazetted  to  the  first- 
lieutenancy  of  Captain  Rayner's.  For  a  while  the  regiment  when  by 
itself  could  talk  of  little  else.  Mr.  Hayne  had  spent  three  or  four 
years  in  the  exile  of  a  little  "  two-company  post"  far  up  in  the  moun- 
tains. Except  the  officers  there  stationed,  none  of  his  comrades  had 
seen  him  during  that  time.  No  one  of  them  would  like  to  admit  that 


THE  DESERTER.  35 

he  would  care  to  see  him.  And  yet,  when  once  in  a  while  they  got  to 
talking  among  themselves  about  him,  and  the  question  was  sometimes 
confidentially  asked  of  comrades  who  came  down  on  leave  from  that 
isolated  station,  "  How  is  Hayne  doing  ?"  or, "  What  is  Hayne  doing  ?" 
the  language  in  which  he  was  referred  to  grew  by  degrees  far  less 
truculent  and  confident  than  it  had  been  when  he  first  went  thither. 
Officers  of  other  regiments  rarely  spoke  to  the  "  Killers"  of  Mr.  Hayne. 
Unlike  one  or  two  others  of  their  arm  of  the  service,  this  particular 
regiment  of  foot  held  the  aifairs  of  its  officers  as  regimental  property 
in  which  outsiders  had  no  concern.  If  they  had  disagreements,  the} 
were  kept  to  themselves ;  and  even  in  a  case  which  in  its  day  had  at- 
tracted wide-spread  attention  the  Killers  had  long  since  learned  to  shun 
all  talk  outside.  It  was  evident  to  other  commands  that  the  Hayne 
affair  was  a  sore  point  and  one  on  which  they  preferred  silence.  And 
yet  it  was  getting  to  be  whispered  around  that  the  Killers  were  by  no 
means  so  unanimous  as  they  had  been  in  their  opinion  of  this  very 
officer.  They  were  becoming  divided  among  themselves ;  and  what  com- 
plicated matters  was  the  fact  that  those  who  felt  their  views  under- 
going a  reconstruction  were  compelled  to  admit  that  just  in  proportion 
as  the  case  of  Mr.  Hayne  rose  in  their  estimation  the  reputation  of  an- 
other officer  was  bound  to  suffer ;  and  that  officer  was  Captain  Rayner. 

Between  these  two  men  not  a  word  had  been  exchanged  for  five 
years, — not  a  single  word  since  the  day  when,  with  ashen  face  and 
broken  accents,  but  with  stern  purpose  in  every  syllable,  Lieutenant 
Hayne,  standing  in  the  presence  of  nearly  all  the  officers  of  his  regi- 
ment, had  hurled  this  prophecy  in  his  adversary's  teeth  :  "  Though 
it  take  me  years,  I  will  live  it  down  despite  you ;  and  you  will  wish 
to  God  you  had  bitten  out  your  perjured  tongue  before  ever  you  told  the 
lie  that  wrecked  me." 

No  wonder  there  was  talk,  and  lots  of  it,  in  the  "  Riflers"  and  all 
through  the  garrison  when  Rayner's  first  lieutenant  suddenly  threw  up 
his  commission  and  retired  to  the  mines  he  had  located  in  Montana, 
and  Hayne,  the  "  senior  second,"  was  promoted  to  the  vacancy.  Specu- 
lation as  to  what  would  be  the  result  was  given  a  temporary  rest  by 
the  news  that  War  Department  orders  had  granted  the  subaltern  six 
months'  leave, — the  first  he  had  sought  in  as  many  years.  It  was 
known  that  he  had  gone  East ;  but  hardly  had  he  been  away  a  for* 
night  when  there  came  the  trouble  with  the  Cheyennes  at  the  reserva- 
tion,— a  leap  for  liberty  by  sr me  fifty  of  the  band,  and  an  immediate 


36  THE  DESERTER 

rush  of  the  cavalry  in  pursuit.  There  were  some  bloody  atrocities,  as 
there  always  are.  All  the  troops  in  the  department  were  ordered  to  be 
in  readiness  for  instant  service,  while  the  officials  eagerly  watched  the 
reports  to  see  which  way  the  desperate  band  would  turn ;  and  the  next 
heard  of  Mr.  Hayne  was  the  news  that  he  had  thrown  up  his  leave 
and  had  hurried  out  to  join  his  company  the  moment  the  Eastern 
papers  told  of  the  trouble.  It  was  ail  practically  settled  by  the  time 
he  reached  the  department;  but  the  spirit  and  intent  of  his  action 
could  not  be  doubted.  And  now  here  he  was  at  Warrener.  That  very 
morning  during  the  matinee  he  had  entered  the  office  unannounced, 
walked  up  to  the  desk  of  the  commander,  and,  while  every  voice  but. 
his  in  the  room  was  stilled,  he  quietly  spoke : 

"Permit  me  to  introduce  myself,  colonel, — Mr.  Hayne.  I  desire 
to  relinquish  my  leave  of  absence  and  report  for  duty." 

The  colonel  quickly  arose  and  extended  his  hand  : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  I  am  especially  glad  to  see  you  and  to  thank  you  here 
for  all  your  care  and  kindness  to  our  men.  The  doctor  tells  me  that 
many  of  them  would  have  had  to  suffer  the  loss  of  noses  and  ears,  eve-? 
of  hands  and  feet  in  some  cases,  but  for  your  attention.  Major  Stannard 
will  add  his  thanks  to  mine  when  he  returns.  Take  a  seat,  sir,  for  the 
present.  You  are  acquainted  with  the  officers  of  your  own  regiment, 
doubtless.  Mr.  Billings,  introduce  Mr.  Hayne  to  ours." 

Whereat  the  adjutant  courteously  greeted  the  new-comer,  presented  a 
small  party  of  yellow-strapped  shoulders,  and  then  drew  him  into  earnest 
talk  about  the  adventure  of  the  train.  It  was  noticed  that  Mr.  Hayne 
neither  by  word  nor  glance  gave  the  slightest  recognition  of  the  presence 
of  the  officers  of  his  own  regiment,  and  that  they  as  studiously  avoided 
him.  One  or  two  of  their  number  had,  indeed,  risen  and  stepped  for- 
ward, as  though  to  offer  him  the  civil  greeting  due  to  one  of  their  own 
cloth ;  but  it  was  with  evident  doubt  of  the  result.  They  reddened 
when  he  met  their  tentative — which  was  that  of  a  gentleman — with  a 
cold  look  of  utter  repudiation.  He  did  not  choose  to  see  them,  and,  of 
course,  that  ended  it. 

Nor  was  his  greeting  hearty  among  the  cavalrymen.  There  were 
only  a  few  present,  as  most  of  the  — th  were  still  out  in  the  field  and 
marching  slowly  homeward.  The  introductions  were  courteous  and 
formal,  there  was  even  constraint  among  some  two  or  three,  but  there 
was  civility  and  an  evident  desire  to  refer  to  his  services  in  behalf  of" 
their  men.  All  such  attempts,  however,  Mr.  Hayne  waved  aside  by 


THE  DESERTER.  3? 

an  immediate  change  of  the  subject.  It  was  plain  that  to  them  too, 
he  had  the  manner  of  a  man  who  was  at  odds  with  the  world  and 
desired  to  make  no  friends. 

The  colonel  quickly  noted  the  general  silence  and  constraint,  and 
resolved  to  shorten  it  as  much  as  possible.  Dropping  his  pen,  he 
wheeled  around  in  his  chair  with  determined  cheerfulness : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  you  will  need  a  day  or  two  to  look  about  before  you 
select  quarters  and  get  ready  for  work,  I  presume." 

"  Thank  you,  colonel.  No,  sir.  I  shall  move  in  this  afternoon  and 
be  on  duty  to-morrow  morning,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause  for  a  moment.  The  officers  looked 
blankly  from  one  to  another,  and  then  began  craning  their  necks  to 
search  for  the  post  quartermaster,  who  sat  an  absorbed  listener.  Then 
the  colonel  spoke  again  : 

"  I  appreciate  your  promptness,  Mr.  Hayne ;  but  have  you  considered 
that  in  choosing  quarters  according  to  your  rank  you  will  necessarily 
move  somebody  out?  We  are  crowded  now,  and  many  of  your  juniors 
are  married,  and  the  ladies  will  want  time  to  pack." 

An  anxious  silence  again.  Captain  Rayner  was  gazing  at  his  boot- 
toes  and  trying  to  appear  utterly  indifferent ;  others  leaned  forward,  as 
though  eager  to  hear  the  answer.  A  faint  smile  crossed  Mr.  Hayne's 
features :  he  seemed  rather  to  enjoy  the  situation : 

"  I  have  considered,  colonel.  I  shall  turn  nobody  out,  and  nobody 
need  be  incommoded  in  the  least." 

"  Oh !  then  you  will  share  quarters  with  some  of  the  bachelors  ?" 
asked  the  colonel,  with  evident  relief. 

"No,  sir;"  and  the  answer  was  stern  in  tone,  though  perfectly 
respectful :  "  I  shall  live  as  I  have  lived  for  years, — utterly  alone." 

One  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  in  the  office, — even  on  the  matted 
floor.  The  colonel  half  rose : 

"  Why,  Mr.  Hayne,  there  is  not  a  vacant  set  of  quarters  in  the 
garrison.  You  will  have  to  move  some  one  out  if  you  decide  to  live 
alone." 

"There  may  be  no  quarters  in  the  post,  sir,  but,  if  you  will  permit 
me,  I  can  live  near  my  company  and  yet  in  officers'  quarters." 

"How  so,  sir?" 

"  In  the  house  out  there  on  the  edge  of  the  garrison,  facing  the 
prairie.  It  is  within  stone' s-throw  of  the  barracks  of  Company  B,  and 
is  exactly  like  those  built  for  the  officers  in  here  along  the  parade." 

4 


38  THE  DESERTER. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Hayne,  no  officers  ever  lived  there.  It  is  utterly  out 
of  the  way  and  isolated.  I  believe  it  was  built  for  the  sutler  years  ago, 
but  was  bought  in  by  the  government  afterwards. — Who  lives  there 
now,  Mr.  Quartermaster  ?" 

"  No  one,  sir.  It  is  being  used  as  a  tailors'  shop ;  half  a  dozen  of 
the  company  tailors  work  there ;  but  I  can  send  them  back  to  their  own 
barracks.  The  house  is  in  good  repair,  and,  as  Mr.  Hayne  says,  exactly 
ike  those  built  for  officers'  use." 

"  And  you  mean  you  want  to  live  there,  alone,  Mr.  Hayne  ?" 

"  I  do,  sir, — exactly." 

The  colonel  turned  sharply  to  his  desk  once  more.  The  strained 
silence  continued  a  moment.  Then  he  faced  his  officers : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  will  you  remain  a  few  moments  ?  I  wish  to  speak 
with  you. — Gentlemen,  that  is  all  this  morning."  And  so  the  meeting 
adjourned. 

While  many  of  the  cavalry  officers  strolled  into  the  neighboring 
club-  and  reading-room,  it  was  noticed  that  their  comrades  of  the  in- 
fantry lost  no  time  at  intermediate  points,  but  took  the  shortest  road  to 
the  row  of  brown  cottages  known  as  the  officers'  quarters.  The  feeling 
of  constraint  that  had  settled  upon  all  was  still  apparent  in  the  group 
that  entered  the  club-room,  and  for  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  There 
was  a  general  settling  into  easy-chairs  and  picking  up  of  newspapers 
without  reference  to  age  or  date.  No  one  seemed  to  want  to  say  any- 
thing, and  yet  every  one  felt  it  necessary  to  have  some  apparent  excuse 
for  becoming  absorbed  in  other  matters.  This  was  so  evident  to  Lieu- 
tenant Blake  that  he  speedily  burst  into  a  laugh, — the  first  that  had  been 
heard, — and  when  two  or  three  heads  popped  out  from  behind  their 
printed  screens  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  his  mirth,  that  light-hearted 
gentleman  was  seen  sprawling  his  long  legs  apart  and  gazing  out  of  the 
window  after  the  groups  of  infantrymen. 

"  What  do  you  see  that's  so  intensely  funny  ?"  growled  one  of  the 
elders  among  the  dragoons. 

"  Nothing,  old  mole, — nothing,"  said  Blake,  turning  suddenly  about. 
"  It  looks  too  much  like  a  funeral  procession  for  fun.  What  I'm 
chuckling  at  is  the  absurdity  of  our  coming  in  here  like  so  many  mutes 
in  weepers.  It's  none  of  our  funeral." 

"Strikes  me  the  situation  is  damned  awkward,"  growled  "the 
mole"  again.  "  Here's  a  fellow  comes  in  who's  cut  by  his  regiment 


THE  DESERTER.  39 

and  has  placed  ours  under  lasting  obligation  before  he  gets  inside  the 
post." 

"  Well,  does  any  man  here  know  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  the  case, 
anyhow  ?"  said  a  tall,  bearded  captain  as  he  threw  aside  the  paper  which 
he  had  not  been  reading,  and  rose  impatiently  to  his  feet.  "  It  seems  to 
me,  from  the  little  I've  heard  of  Mr.  Hayne  and  the  little  I've  seen, 
that  there  is  a  broad  variation  between  facts  and  appearances.  He  looks 
like  a  gentleman." 

"  No  one  does  know  anything  more  of  the  matter  than  was  known 
at  the  time  of  the  court-martial  five  years  ago,"  answered  "  the  mole." 
"  Of  course  you  have  heard  all  about  that ;  and  my  experience  is  that 
when  a  body  of  officers  and  gentlemen  find,  after  due  deliberation  on 
the  evidence,  that  another  has  been  guilty  of  conduct  unbecoming  an 
officer  and  a  gentleman,  the  chances  are  a  hundred  to  one  he  has  been 
doing  something  disreputable,  to  say  the  least." 

"Then  why  wasn't  he  dismissed?"  queried  a  young  lieutenant. 
*  The  law  says  he  must  be." 

"  That's  right,  Dolly :  pull  your  Ives  and  Benet  on  'em,  and  show 
you  know  all  about  military  law  and  courts-martial,"  said  the  captain, 
crushingly.  "  It's  one  thing  for  a  court  to  sentence,  and  another  for 
the  President  to  approve.  Hayne  was  dismissed,  so  far  as  a  court 
could  do  it,  but  the  President  remitted  the  whole  thing." 

"  There  was  more  to  it  than  that,  though,  and  you  know  it,  Bux- 
ton,"  said  Blake.  "Neither  the  department  commander  nor  General 
Sherman  thought  the  evidence  conclusive,  and  they  said  so, — especially 
old  Gray  Fox.  And  you  ask  any  of  these  fellows  here  now  whether 
they  believe  Hayne  was  really  guilty,  and  I'll  bet  you  that  eight  out  of 
ten  will  flunk  at  the  question." 

"  And  yet  they  all  cut  him  dead.  That's  prima  fade  evidence  of 
what  they  think." 

"  Cut  be  blowed  !  By  gad,  if  any  man  asked  me  to  testify  on  oath 
as  to  where  the  cut  lay,  I  should  say  he  had  cut  tJiem.  Did  you  see 
how  he  ignored  Foster  and  Graham  this  morning  ?" 

"  I  did ;  and  I  thought  it  damned  ungeutlemanly  in  him.  Those 
fellows  did  the  proper  thing,  and  he  ought  to  have  acknowledged  it," 
broke  in  a  third  officer. 

"I'm  not  defending  that  point;  the  Lord  knows  he  has  done 
nothing  to  encourage  civility  with  his  own  people ;  but  there  are  two 
sides  to  every  story,  and  I  asked  their  adjutant  last  fall,  when  there  was 


40  THE  DESERTER. 

some  talk  of  his  company's  being  sent  here,  what  Hayne's  status  was, 
and  he  told  me.  There  isn't  a  squarer  man  or  sounder  soldier  in  the 
army  than  the  adjutant  of  the  Biflers ;  and  he  said  that  it  was  Hayne's 
stubborn  pride  that  more  than  anything  else  stood  in  the  way  of  his 
restoration  to  social  standing.  He  had  made  it  a  rule  that  every  one 
who  was  not  for  him  was  against  him,  and  refused  to  admit  any  man  to 
his  society  who  would  not  first  come  to  him  of  his  own  volition  and  say 
he  believed  him  utterly  innocent.  As  that  involved  the  necessity  of  their 
looking  upon  Rayner  as  either  perjured  or  grossly  and  persistently 
mistaken,  no  one  felt  called  upon  to  do  it.  Guilty  or  innocent,  he  has 
lived  the  life  of  a  Pariah  ever  since." 

"  /  wanted  to  open  out  to  him,  to-day,"  said  Captain  Gregg,  "  but 
the  moment  I  began  to  speak  of  his  great  kindness  to  our  men  he  froze 
as  stiff  as  Mulligan's  ear.  What  was  the  use?  I  simply  couldn't 
thaw  an  icicle.  What  made  him  so  effective  in  getting  the  frost  out  of 
them  was  his  capacity  for  absorbing  it  into  his  own  system." 

"  Well,  here,  gentlemen,"  said  Buxton,  impatiently,  "  we've  got  to 
face  this  thing  sooner  or  later,  and  may  as  well  do  it  now.  I  know 
Rayner,  and  like  him,  and  don't  believe  he's  the  kind  of  man  to  wilfully 
wrong  another.  I  don't  know  Mr.  Hayne,  and  Mr.  Hayne  apparently 
don't  want  to  know  me.  I  think  that  where  a  man  has  been  convicted 
of  dishonorable — disgraceful  conduct  and  is  cut  by  his  whole  regiment 
it  is  our  business  to  back  the  regiment,  not  the  man.  Now  the  question 
is,  where  shall  we  draw  the  line  in  this  case?  It's  none  of  our  funeral, 
as  Blake  says,  but  ordinarily  it  would  be  our  duty  to  call  upon  this 
officer.  Shall  we  do  it,  now  that  he  is  in  Coventry,  or  shall  we  leave 
him  to  his  own  devices  ?" 

"  I'll  answer  for  myself,  Buxton,"  said  Blake,  "  and  you  can  do  as 
you  please.  Except  that  one  thing,  and  the  not  unusual  frivolities  of  a 
youngster  that  occurred  previous  to  his  trial,  I  understand  that  his 
character  has  been  above  reproach.  So  far  as  I  can  learn,  he  is  a  far 
more  reputable  character  than  I  am,  and  a  better  officer  than  most  of  us. 
Growl  all  you  want  to,  comrades  mine :  '  it's  a  way  we  have  in  the 
army,'  and  I  like  it.  So  long  as  I  include  myself  in  these  malodorous 
comparisons,  you  needn't  swear.  It  is  my  conviction  that  the  Riflers 
wouldn't  say  he  was  guilty  to-day  if  they  hadn't  said  so  five  years  ago. 
It  is  my  information  that  he  has  paid  every  cent  of  the  damages, 
whether  he  caused  them  or  not,  and  it  is  my  intention  to  go  and  call 


THE  DESERTER.  41 

upon  Mr.  Hayne  as  soon  as  he's  settled.  I  don't  propose  to  influence 
any  man  in  his  action ;  and  excuse  me,  Buxton,  I  think  you  did" 

The  captain  looked  wrathful.  Blake  was  an  oddity,  of  whom  he 
rather  stood  in  awe,  for  there  was  no  mistaking  the  popularity  and 
respect  in  which  he  was  held  in  his  own  regiment.  The  — th  was 
somewhat  remarkable  for  being  emphatically  an  u  outspoken  crowd," 
and  for  some  years,  thanks  to  a  leaven  of  strong  and  truthful  men  in 
whom  this  trait  was  pronounced  and  sustained,  it  had  grown  to  be  the 
custom  of  all  but  a  few  of  the  officers  to  discuss  openly  and  fully  all 
matters  of  regimental  policy  and  utterly  to  discountenance  covert  action 
of  any  kind.  Blake  was  thoroughly  popular,  and  generally  respected, 
despite  a  tendency  to  rant  and  rattle  on  most  occasions.  Nevertheless, 
there  were  signs  of  dissent  as  to  the  line  of  action  he  proposed,  though 
it  were  only  for  his  own  guidance. 

"And  how  do  you  suppose  Rayner  and  the  Riflers  generally  will 
regard  your  calling  on  their  black  sheep?"  asked  Buxton,  after  a 
pause. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Blake,  more  seriously,  and  with  a  tone 
of  concern.  "  I  like  Rayner,  and  have  found  most  of  those  fellows 
thorough  gentlemen  and  good  friends.  This  will  test  the  question 
thoroughly.  I  believe  most  of  them,  except  of  course  Rayner,  would 
do  the  same  were  they  in  my  place.  At  all  events,  I  mean  to  see." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Gregg?"  asked  "the  mole,"  wheeling 
suddenly  on  his  brother  troop-commander. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Gregg,  doubtfully.  "  I  think  I'll  ask  the 
colonel." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  he  means  to  do  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  again  ;  but  I'll  bet  we  all  know  as  soon  as  he  makes 
up  his  mind  ;  and  he  is  making  up  his  mind  now, — or  he's  made  it  up, 
for  there  goes  Mr.  Hayne,  and  here  comes  the  orderly.  Something's  up 
already." 

Every  head  was  turned  to  the  door-way  as  the  orderly's  step  was 
heard  in  the  outer  hall,  and  every  voice  stilled  to  hear  the  message,  it 
was  so  unusual  for  the  commanding  officer  to  send  for  one  of  his  sub- 
ordinates after  the  morning  meeting.  The  soldier  tapped  at  the  panel, 
and  at  the  prompt  "  Come  in"  pushed  it  partly  open  and  stood  with  one 
white-gloved  hand  resting  on  the  knob,  the  other  raised  to  his  cap- visor 
in  salute. 

"  Lieutenant  Blake  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  glanced  around. 


42  THE  DESERTER. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Blake,  stepping  quickly  from  tlie  window. 

"  The  commanding  officer's  compliments,  sir,  and  could  he  see  the 
lieutenant  one  minute  before  the  court  meets  ?" 

"  Coming  at  once,"  said  Blake,  as  he  pushed  his  way  through  the 
chairs,  and  the  orderly  faced  about  and  disappeared. 

"  I'll  bet  it's  about  Hayne,"  was  the  apparently  unanimous  senti- 
ment as  the  cavalry  party  broke  up  and  scattered  for  the  morning's 
duties.  Some  waited  purposely  to  hear. 

The  adjutant  alone  stood  in  the  colonel's  presence  as  Blake  knocked 
and  entered.  All  others  had  gone.  There  was  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, and  the  colonel  paused  and  looked  his  man  over  before  he  spoke : 

"  You  will  excuse  my  sending  for  you,  Mr.  Blake,  when  I  tell  you 
that  it  is  a  matter  that  has  to  be  decided  at  once.  In  this  case  you 
will  consider,  too,  that  I  want  you  to  say  yes  or  no  exactly  as  yon 
would  to  a  comrade  of  your  own  grade.  If  you  were  asked  to  meet 
Mr.  Hayne  at  any  other  house  in  the  garrison  than  mine,  would  you 
desire  to  accept  ?  You  are  aware  of  all  the  circumstances,  the  adjutant 
tells  me." 

"  I  am,  sir,  and  have  just  announced  my  intention  of  calling  upon 
him." 

"  Then  will  you  dine  with  us  this  evening  to  meet  Mr.  Hayne  ?" 

"  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure,  sir." 

********** 

It  could  hardly  have  been  an  hour  afterwards  when  Mrs.  Rayner 
entered  the  library  in  her  cosey  home  and  found  Miss  Travers  enter- 
taining herself  with  a  book. 

"Have  you  written  to  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  this  morning?"  she 
asked.  "  I  thought  that  was  what  you  came  here  for." 

"  I  did  mean  to,  but  Mrs.  Waldron  has  been  here,  and  I  was  in- 
terrupted." 

"  It  is  fully  fifteen  minutes  since  she  left,  Nellie.  You  might  have 
written  two  or  three  pages  already ;  and  you  know  that  all  manner  of 
visitors  will  be  coming  in  by  noon." 

"I  was  just  thinking  over  something  she  told  me.  I'll  write 
presently." 

"  Mrs.  Waldron  is  a  woman  who  talks  about  everything  and  every- 
body. I  adrise  you  to  listen  to  her  no  more  than  you  can  help.  What 
was  it  she  told  you?" 


THE  DESERTER  43 

Miss  Travers  smiled  roguishly :  "  "Why  should  you  want  to  know 
Kate,  if  you  disapprove  of  her  revelations  ?" 

"  Oh,"  with  visible  annoyance,  "  it  is  to — I  wanted  to  know  BO  aa 
to  let  you  see  that  it  was  something  unfounded,  as  usual." 

"  She  said  she  had  just  been  told  that  the  colonel  was  going  to  give 
a  dinner-party  this  evening  to  Mr.  Hayne." 

"What?" 

"  She — said — she — had — -just — been — told — that — the  colonel — was 
going — to  give — a  dinner-party — this  evening — to  Mr. Hayne." 

"Who  told  her?" 

"Kate,  I  didn't  ask." 

"  Who  are  invited  ?    None  of  ours  ?" 

"Kate,  I  don't  know." 

"  Where  did  she  say  she  had  heard  it  ?" 

"She  didn't  say." 

Mrs.  Rayner  paused  one  moment,  irresolute :  "  Didn't  she  tell  you 
anything  more  about  it  ?" 

"  Nothing,  sister  mine.  Why  should  you  feel  such  an  interest  in 
what  Mrs.  Waldron  says,  if  she's  such  a  gossip  ?"  And  Miss  Travera 
was  evidently  having  hard  work  to  keep  from  laughing  outright. 

"  You  had  better  write  your  letter,"  said  her  big  sister,  and  flounced 
suddenly  out  of  the  room  and  up  the  stairs. 

A  moment  later  she  was  at  the  parlor  door  with  a  wrap  thrown  over 
her  shoulders  :  "  If  Captain  Rayner  comes  in,  tell  him  I  want  particu- 
larly to  see  him  before  he  goes  out  again." 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Kate  ?" 

"  Oh,  just  over  to  Mrs.  Waldron's  a  moment." 

IV. 

Facing  the  broad,  bleak  prairie,  separated  from  it  only  by  a  rough, 
unpainted  picket  fence,  and  flanked  by  uncouth  structures  of  pine,  one 
of  which  was  used  as  a  storehouse  for  quartermaster's  property,  the 
other  as  the  post-trader's  depository  for  skins  and  furs,  there  stood  the 
frame  cottage  which  Mr.  Hayne  had  chosen  as  his  home.  As  has  been 
said,  it  was  precisely  like  those  built  for  the  subaltern  officers,  so  far  as 
material,  plan,  and  dimensions  were  concerned.  The  locality  made  the 
vast  difference  which  really  existed.  Theirs  stood  all  in  a  row,  fronting 
the  grassy  level  of  the  parade,  surrounded  by  verandas,  bordering  on  a 


44  THE  DESERTER. 

well-kept  gravel  path  and  an  equally  well  graded  drive.  Clear,  spark- 
ling water  rippled  in  tiny  acequias  through  the  front  yards  of  each,  and 
so  furnished  the  moisture  needed  for  the  life  of  various  little  shrubs 
and  flowering  plants.  The  surroundings  were  at  least  "  sociable,"  and 
there  was  companionship  and  jollity,  with  an  occasional  tiff  to  keep 
things  lively.  The  married  officers,  as  a  rule,  had  chosen  their  quarters 
farthest  from  the  entrance-gate  and  nearest  those  of  the  colonel  com- 
manding. The  bachelors,  except  the  two  or  three  who  were  old  in  the 
service  and  had  "  rank"  in  lieu  of  encumbrances,  were  all  herded  to- 
gether along  the  eastern  end,  a  situation  that  had  disadvantages  as  con- 
nected with  duties  which  required  the  frequent  presence  of  the  occupants 
at  the  court-martial  rooms  or  at  head-quarters,  and  that  was  correspond- 
ingly f»jL  distant  from  the  barracks  of  the  soldiers.  It  had  its  recom- 
mendations in  being  convenient  to  the  card-room  and  billiard-tables  at 
"  the  store,"  and  in  embracing  within  its  limits  one  house  which  pos- 
sessed mysterious  interest  in  the  eyes  of  every  woman  and  most  of  the 
men  in  the  garrison :  it  was  said  to  be  haunted. 

A  sorely-perplexed  man  was  the  post  quartermaster  when  the  rumor 
came  out  from  the  railway-station  that  Mr.  Hayne  had  arrived  and  was 
coming  to  report  for  duty.  As  a  first  lieutenant  he  would  have  choice 
of  quarters  over  every  second  lieutenant  in  the  garrison  :  there  were  ten 
of  these  young  gentlemen,  and  four  of  the  ten  were  married.  Every 
set  of  quarters  had  its  occupants,  and  Hayne  could  move  in  nowhere^ 
unless  as  occupant  of  a  room  or  two  in  the  house  of  some  comrade, 
without  first  compelling  others  to  move  out.  This  proceeding  would 
lead  to  vast  discomfort,  occurring  as  it  would  in  the  dead  of  winter, 
and  the  youngsters  were  naturally  perturbed  in  spirit, — their  wives 
especially  so.  What  made  the  prospects  infinitely  worse  was  the  fact 
that  the  cavalry  bachelors  were  already  living  three  in  a  house :  the 
only  spare  rooms  were  in  the  quarters  of  tne  second  lieutenants  of 
the  infantry,  and  they  were  not  on  speaking-terms  with  Mr.  Hayne. 
Everything,  therefore,  pointed  to  the  probability  of  his  "  displacing" 
a  junior,  who  would  in  turn  displace  somebody  else,  and  so  they 
would  go  tumbling  like  a  row  of  bricks  until  the  lowest  and  last  was 
reached.  All  this  would  involve  no  end  of  worry  for  the  quarter- 
master, who  even  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  is  sure  to 
be  the  least  appreciated  and  most  abused  officer  under  the  comman- 
dant himself,  and  that  worthy  was  simply  agasp  with  relief  and  joy 


THE  DESERTER.  46 

when  he  jeard  Mr.  Hayne's  astonishing  announcement  that  he  would 
take  the  quarters  out  on  "  Prairie  Avenue." 

It  was  the  talk  of  the  garrison  all  that  day.  The  ladies,  especially, 
had  a  good  deal  to  say,  because  many  of  the  men  seemed  averse  to  ex- 
pressing their  views.  "  Quite  the  proper  thing  for  Mr.  Hayne  to  do," 
was  the  apparent  opinion  of  the  majority  of  the  young  wives  and 
mothers.  As  a  particularly  kind  and  considerate  thing  it  was  not  re- 
marked by  one  of  them,  though  that  view  of  the  case  went  not  entirely 
unrepresented.  In  choosing  to  live  there  Mr.  Hayne  separated  himself 
from  companionship.  That,  said  some  of  the  commentators, — men 
as  well  as  women, — he  simply  accepted  as  the  virtue  of  necessity,  and 
so  there  was  nothing  to  commend  in  his  action.  But  Mr.  Hayne  was 
said  to  possess  an  eye  for  the  picturesque  and  beautiful.  If  so,  he 
deliberately  condemned  himself  to  the  daily  contemplation  of  a  treeless 
barren,  streaked  in  occasional  shallows  with  dingy  patches  of  snow, 
ornamented  only  in  spots  by  abandoned  old  hats,  boots,  or  tin  cans 
blown  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  the  garrison  police-parties.  A  line 
of  telegraph-poles  was  all  that  intervened  between  his  fence  and  the 
low-lying  hills  of  the  eastern  horizon.  Southeastward  lay  the  distant 
roofs  and  the  low,  squat  buildings  of  the  frontier  town  ;  southward  the 
shallow  valley  of  the  winding  creek  in  which  lay  the  long  line  of 
stables  for  the  cavalry  and  the  great  stacks  of  hay ;  while  the  row  on 
which  he  chose  to  live — "  Prairie  Avenue,"  as  it  was  termed — was  far 
worse  at  his  end  of  it  than  at  the  other.  It  covered  the  whole  eastern 
front.  The  big,  brown  hospital  building  stood  at  the  northern  end. 
Then  came  the  quarters  of  the  surgeon  and  his  assistants,  then  the 
snug  home  of  the  post  trader,  then  the  "store"  and  its  scattering 
appendages,  then  the  entrance-gateway,  then  a  broad  vacant  space, 
through  which  the  wind  swept  like  a  hurricane,  then  the  little  shanty 
of  the  trader's  fur  house  and  one  or  two  hovel-like  structures  used  by 
the  tailors  and  cobbler  of  the  adjacent  infantry  companies.  Then  came 
the  cottage  itself:  south  of  it  stood  the  quartermaster's  store-room, 
back  of  which  lay  an  extension  filled  with  ordnance  stores,  then  other 
and  similar  sheds  devoted  to  commissary  supplies,  the  post  butcher- 
shop,  the  saddler's  shop,  then  big  coal-sheds,  and  then  the  brow  of  the 
bluff,  down  which  at  a  steep  grade  plunged  the  road  to  the  stables.  It 
was  as  unprepossessing  a  place  for  a  home  as  ever  was  chosen  by  a  man 
of  education  or  position ;  and  Mr.  Hayne  was  possessed  of  both. 

In  garrison,  despite  the  flat  parade,  there  was  a  grand  expanse  of 


46  THE  DESERTEtt. 

country  to  be  seen  stretching  away  towards  the  snow-covered  Rockies. 
There  was  life  and  the  sense  of  neighborliness  to  one's  kind.  Out  on 
Prairie  Avenue  all  was  wintry  desolation,  except  when  twice  each  day 
the  cavalry  officers  went  plodding  by  on  their  way  to  and  from  the 
stables,  muffled  up  in  their  fur  caps  and  coats,  and  hardly  distinguish- 
able from  so  many  bears,  much  less  from  one  another. 

And  yet  Mr.  Hayne  smiled  not  unhappily  as  he  glanced  from  his 
eastern  window  at  this  group  of  burly  warriors  the  afternoon  succeed- 
ing his  dinner  at  the  colonel's.  He  had  been  busy  all  day  long  un- 
packing books,  book-shelves,  some  few  pictures  which  he  loved,  and  his 
simple,  soldierly  outfit  of  household  goods,  and  getting  them  into  shape. 
His  sole  assistant  was  a  Chinese  servant,  who  worked  rapidly  and  well, 
and  who  seemed  in  no  wise  dismayed  by  the  bleakness  of  their  sur- 
roundings. If  anything,  he  was  disposed  to  grin  and  indulge  in  high- 
pitched  commentaries  in  "  pidgin  English"  upon  the  unaccustomed 
amount  of  room.  His  master  had  been  restricted  to  two  rooms  and  a 
kitchen  during  the  two  years  he  had  served  him.  Now  they  had  a 
house  to  themselves,  and  more  rooms  than  they  knew  what  to  do  with. 
The  quartermaster  had  sent  a  detail  of  men  to  put  up  the  stoves  and 
move  out  the  rubbish  left  by  the  tailors ;  "  Sam"  had  worked  vigor- 
ously with  soft  soap,  hot  water,  and  a  big  mop  in  sprucing  up  the 
rooms ;  the  adjutant  had  sent  a  little  note  during  the  morning,  saying 
that  the  colonel  would  be  glad  to  order  him  any  men  he  needed  to  put 
the  quarters  in  proper  shape,  and  that  Captain  Rayner  had  expressed 
his  readiness  to  send  a  detail  from  the  company  to  unload  and  unpack 
his  boxes,  etc.,  to  which  Mr.  Hayne  replied  in  person  that  he  thanked 
the  commanding  officer  for  his  thoughtfulness,  but  that  he  had  very 
little  to  unpack,  and  needed  no  assistance  beyond  that  already  afforded 
by  the  quartermaster's  men.  Mr.  Billings  could  not  help  noting  that 
he  made  no  allusion  to  that  part  of  the  letter  which  spoke  of  Captain 
Rayner's  offer.  It  increased  his  respect  for  Mr.  Hayne's  perceptive 
powers. 

While  every  officer  of  the  infantry  battalion  was  ready  to  admit 
that  Mr.  Hayne  had  rendered  invaluable  service  to  the  men  of  the  cav- 
alry regiment,  they  were  not  so  unanimous  in  their  opinion  as  to  how 
it  should  be  acknowledged  and  requited  by  its  officers.  No  one  was 
prepared  for  the  announcement  that  the  colonel  had  asked  him  to  dinner 
and  that  Blake  and  Billings  were  to  meet  him.  Some  few  of  their 
number  thought  it  going  too  far,  but  no  one  quite  coincided  with  the 


THE  DESERTER.  47 

vehement  declaration  of  Mrs.  Rayner  that  it  was  an  outrage  and  an 
affront  aimed  at  the  regiment  in  general  and  at  Captain  Rayner  in  par- 
ticular. She  was  an  energetic  woman  when  aroused,  and  there  was  no 
doubt  of  her  being  very  much  aroused  as  she  sped  from  house  to  house 
to  see  what  the  other  ladies  thought  of  it.  Rayner's  wealth  and  Mrs. 
Rayner's  qualities  had  made  her  an  undoubted  though  not  always  popu- 
lar leader  in  all  social  matters  in  the  Riflers.  She  was  an  authority,  so 
to  speak,  and  one  who  knew  it.  Already  there  had  been  some  points 
on  which  she  had  differed  with  the  colonel's  wife,  and  it  was  plain  to  all 
that  it  was  a  difficult  thing  for  her  to  come  down  from  being  the  author- 
ity— the  leader  of  the  social  element  of  a  garrison — and  from  the  po- 
sition of  second  or  third  importance  which  she  had  been  accorded  when 
first  assigned  to  the  station.  There  were  many,  indeed,  who  asserted 
that  it  was  because  she  found  her  new  position  unbearable  that  she 
decided  on  her  long  visit  to  the  East  and  departed  thither  before  the 
Riflers  had  been  at  Warrener  a  month.  The  colonel's  wife  had  greeted 
her  and  her  lovely  sister  with  charming  grace  on  their  arrival  two  days 
previous  to  the  stirring  event  of  the  dinner,  and  every  one  was  looking 
forward  to  a  probable  series  of  pleasant  entertainments  by  the  two 
households,  even  while  wondering  how  long  the  entente  cordicde  would 
last, — when  the  colonel's  invitation  to  Mr.  Hayne  brought  on  an  im- 
mediate crisis.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  Mrs.  Rayner  was  madder  than  the 
captain  her  husband,  who  hardly  knew  how  to  take  it.  He  was  by  no 
means  the  best  liked  officer  in  his  regiment,  nor  the  "  deepest"  and  best 
informed,  but  he  had  a  native  shrewdness  which  helped  him.  He  noted 
even  before  his  wife  would  speak  of  it  to  him  the  gradual  dying  out  of 
the  bitter  feeling  that  had  once  existed  at  Hayne's  expense.  He  felt, 
though  it  hurt  him  seriously  to  make  inquiries,  that  the  man  whom 
he  had  practically  crushed  and  ruined  in  the  long  ago  was  slowly  but 
surely  gaining  strength  even  where  he  would  not  make  friends.  Worse 
than  all,  he  was  beginning  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses  as 
the  years  receded,  and  unknown  to  any  soul  on  earth,  even  his  wife, 
there  was  growing  up  deep  down  in  his  heart  a  gnawing,  insidious,  ever- 
festering  fear  that  after  all,  after  all,  he  might  have  been  mistaken. 
And  yet  on  the  sacred  oath  of  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman,  against  the  most 
searching  cross-examination,  again  and  again  had  he  most  confidently  and 
positively  declared  that  he  had  both  seen  and  heard  the  fatal  interview  on 
which  the  whole  case  hinged.  And  as  to  the  exact  language  employed, 
he  alone  of  those  within  earshot  had  lived  to  testify  for  or  against  the  ac- 


48  THE  DESERTER. 

cused  :  of  the  five  soldiers  who  stood  in  that  now  celebrated  group,  three 
were  shot  to  death  within  the  hour.  He  was  growing  nervous,  irritable, 
haggard  ;  he  was  getting  to  hate  the  mere  mention  of  the  case.  The  pro- 
motion of  Hayne  to  his  own  company  thrilled  him  with  an  almost  super- 
stitious dismay.  Were  his  words  coming  true  ?  Was  it  the  judgment  of 
an  offended  God  that  his  hideous  pride,  obstinacy,  and  old-time  hatred 
of  this  officer  were  now  to  be  revenged  by  daily,  hourly  contact  with  the 
victim  of  his  criminal  persecution  ?  He  had  grown  morbidly  sensitive 
to  any  remarks  as  to  Hayne's  having  "  lived  down"  the  toils  in  which 
he  had  been  encircled.  Might  he  not  "  live  down"  the  ensnarer  ?  He 
dreaded  to  see  him, — though  Rayner  was  no  coward, — and  he  feared 
day  by  day  to  hear  of  his  restoration  to  fellowship  in  the  regiment,  and 
yet  would  have  given  half  his  wealth  to  bring  it  about,  could  it  but  have 
been  accomplished  without  the  dreadful  admission,  "  I  was  wrong.  I 
was  utterly  wrong."  He  had  grown  lavish  in  hospitality ;  he  had  become 
almost  aggressively  open-handed  to  his  comrades,  and  had  sought  to 
press  money  upon  men  who  in  no  wise  needed  it.  He  was  as  eager  to 
lend  as  some  are  to  borrow,  and  his  brother  officers  dubbed  him  "  Mi- 
das" not  because  everything  he  touched  would  turn  to  gold,  but  because 
he  would  intrude  his  gold  upon  them  at  every  turn.  There  were  some 
who  borrowed ;  and  these  he  struggled  not  to  let  repay.  He  seemed  to 
have  an  insane  idea  that  if  he  could  but  get  his  regimental  friends 
bound  to  him  pecuniarily  he  could  control  their  opinions  and  ac- 
tions. It  was  making  him  sick  at  heart,  and  it  made  him  in  secret 
doubly  vindictive  and  bitter  against  the  man  he  had  doomed  to  years 
of  suffering.  This  showed  out  that  very  morning.  Mrs.  Rayner  had 
begun  to  talk,  and  he  turned  fiercely  upon  her : 

"  Not  a  word  on  that  subject,  Kate,  if  you  love  me ! — not  even  the 
mention  of  his  name !  I  must  have  peace  in  my  own  house.  It  is 
enough  to  have  to  talk  of  it  elsewhere. 

Talk  of  it  he  had  to.  The  major  early  that  morning  asked  him, 
as  they  were  going  to  the  matinee, — 

"  Have  you  seen  Hayne  yet  ?" 

"Not  since  he  reported  on  the  parade  yesterday,"  was  the  curt 
roply. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  will  send  men  to  help  him  get  those  quarters 
in  habitable  shape  ?" 

"  I  will,  of  course,  major,  if  he  ask  it.  I  don't  propose  sending 
men  to  do  such  work  for  an  officer  unless  the  request  come." 


THE  DESERTER.  49 

rt  He  is  entitled  to  that  consideration,  Rayner,  and  I  think  the  men 
should  be  sent  to  him.  He  is  hardly  likely  to  ask." 

"  Then  he  is  less  likely  to  get  them/'  said  the  captain,  skortly,  for, 
except  the  post  commander,  he  well  knew  that  no  officer  could  order  it 
tc  be  done.  He  was  angry  at  the  major  for  interfering.  They  were  old 
associates,  and  had  entered  service  almost  at  the  same  time,  but  his  friend 
had  the  better  luck  in  promotion  and  was  now  his  battalion  commander. 
Rayner  made  an  excuse  of  stopping  to  speak  with  the  officer  of  the 
day,  and  the  major  went  on  without  him.  He  was  a  quiet  old  soldier : 
he  wanted  no  disturbance  with  his  troubled  friend,  and,  like  a  sensible 
man,  he  turned  the  matter  over  to  their  common  superior,  in  a  very 
few  words,  before  the  arrival  of  the  general  audience.  It  was  this  that 
had  caused  the  colonel  to  turn  quietly  to  Rayner  and  say,  in  the  most 
matter-of-fact  way, — 

"Oh,  Captain  Rayner,  I  presume  Mr.  Hayne  will  need  three  or 
four  men  to  help  him  get  his  quarters  in  shape.  I  suppose  you  have 
already  thought  to  send  them  ?" 

And  Rayner  flushed,  and  stammered,  "They  have  not  gone  yet, 
sir ;  but  I  had — thought  of  it." 

Later,  when  the  sergeant  sent  the  required  detail  he  reported  to 
the  captain  in  the  company  office  in  five  minutes  :  "  The  lieutenant's 
compliments  and  thanks,  but  he  does  not  need  the  men." 

The  dinner  at  the  colonel's,  quiet  as  it  was  and  with  only  eight  at 
table,  was  an  affair  of  almost  momentous  importance  to  Mr.  Hayne. 
It  was  the  first  thing  of  the  kind  he  had  attended  in  five  years ;  and 
though  he  well  know  that  it  was  intended  by  the  cavalry  commander 
more  especially  as  a  recognition  of  the  services  rendered  their  suffering 
men,  he  could  not  but  rejoice  in  the  courtesy  and  tact  with  which  he 
was  received  and  entertained.  The  colonel's  wife,  the  adjutant's,  and 
those  of  two  captains  away  with  the  field  battalion,  were  the  four  ladies 
who  were  there  to  greet  him  when,  escorted  by  Mr.  Blake,  he  made 
his  appearance.  How  long — how  very  long — it  seemed  to  him  since 
he  had  sat  in  the  presence  of  refined  and  attractive  women  and  listened 
to  their  gay  and  animated  chat !  They  seemed  all  such  good  friends, 
they  made  him  so  thoroughly  at  home,  and  they  showed  so  much  tact 
and  ease,  that  never  once  did  it  seem  apparent  that  they  knew  of  his 
trouble  in  his  own  regiment ;  and  yet  there  was  no  actual  avoidance  of 
matters  in  which  the  Riflers  were  generally  interested.  It  was  mainly 
of  his  brief  visit  to  the  East,  however,  that  they  made  him  talk, — of  the 
C  5 


60  THE  DESERTER. 

operas  and  theatres  he  had  attended,  the  pictures  he  had  seen,  the  music 
that  was  most  popular ;  and  when  dinner  was  over  their  hostess  led 
him  to  her  piano,  and  he  played  and  sang  for  them  again  and  again. 
His  voice  was  soft  and  sweet,  and,  though  it  was  uncultivated,  he  sang 
with  expression  and  grace,  playing  with  more  skill  but  less  feeling  and 
effect  than  he  sang.  Music  and  books  had  been  the  solace  of  lonely 
years,  and  he  could  easily  see  that  he  had  pleased  them  with  his  songs. 
He  went  home  to  the  dreary  rookery  out  on  Prairie  Avenue  and 
laughed  at  the  howling  wind.  The  bare  grimy  walls  and  the  dim 
kerosene  lamp,  even  Sam's  unmelodious  snore  in  the  back  room,  sent 
no  gloom  to  his  soul.  It  had  been  a  happy  evening.  It  had  cost  him 
a  hard  struggle  to  restrain  the  emotion  which  he  had  felt  at  times ; 
and  when  he  withdrew,  soon  after  the  trumpets  sounded  tattoo,  and  the 
ladies  fell  to  discussing  him,  as  women  will,  there  was  but  one  verdict, 
— his  manners  were  perfect. 

But  the  colonel  said  more  than  that.  He  had  found  him  far  better 
read  than  any  other  officer  of  his  age  he  had  ever  met ;  and  one  and  all 
they  expressed  the  hope  that  they  might  see  him  frequently.  No  wonder 
it  was  of  momentous  importance  to  him.  It  was  the  opening  to  a  new 
life.  It  meant  that  here  at  least  he  had  met  soldiers  and  gentlemen 
and  their  fair  and  gracious  wives  who  had  welcomed  him  to  their 
homes,  and,  though  they  must  have  known  that  a  pall  of  suspicion  and 
crime  had  overshadowed  his  past,  they  believed  either  that  he  was 
innocent  of  the  grievous  charge  or  that  his  years  of  exile  and  suffering 
had  amply  atoned.  It  was  a  happy  evening  indeed  to  him ;  but  there 
was  gloom  at  Captain  Rayner's. 

The  captain  himself  had  gone  out  soon  after  tattoo.  He  found  that 
the  parlor  was  filled  with  young  visitors  of  both  sexes,  and  he  was  in 
no  mood  for  merriment.  Miss  Travers  was  being  welcomed  to  the 
post  in  genuine  army  style,  and  was  evidently  enjoying  it.  Mrs. 
Rayner  was  flitting  nervously  in  and  out  of  the  parlor  with  a  cloud 
upon  her  brow,  and  for  once  in  her  life  compelled  to  preserve  temporary 
silence  upon  the  subject  uppermost  in  her  thoughts.  She  had  been 
forbidden  to  speak  of  it  to  her  husband  ;  yet  she  knew  he  had  gone  out 
again  with  every  probability  of  needing  some  one  to  talk  to  about  the 
matter.  She  could  not  well  broach  the  topic  in  the  parlor,  because  she 
was  not  at  all  sure  how  Captain  and  Mrs.  Gregg  of  the  cavalry  would 
take  it ;  and  they  were  still  there.  She  was  a  loyal  wife ;  her  husband's 
quarrel  was  hers,  and  more  too ;  and  she  was  a  woman  of  intuition 


THE  DESERTER.  51 

even  keener  than  that  which  we  so  readily  accord  the  sex.  She  knew, 
and  knew  well,  that  a  hideous  doubt  had  been  preying  for  a  long  time 
in  her  husband's  heart  of  hearts,  and  she  knew  still  better  that  it  would 
crush  him  to  believe  it  was  even  suspected  by  any  one  else.  Right  or 
wrong,  the  one  thing  for  her  to  do,  she  doubted  not,  was  to  maintain 
the  original  guilt  against  all  comers,  and  to  lose  no  opportunity  of  feed- 
ing the  flame  that  consumed  Mr.  Hayne's  record  and  reputation.  He 
was  guilty, — he  must  be  guilty ;  and  though  she  was  a  Christian  accord- 
ing to  her  view  of  the  case, — a  pillar  of  the  Church  in  matters  of  public 
charity  and  picturesque  conformity  to  all  the  rubric  called  for  in  the 
services,  and  much  that  it  did  not, — she  was  unrelenting  in  her  condem- 
nation of  Mr.  Hayne.  To  those  who  pointed  out  that  he  had  made  every 
atonement  man  could  make,  she  responded  with  the  severity  of  conscious 
virtue  that  there  could  be  no  atonement  without  repentance,  and  no 
repentance  without  humility.  Mr.  Hayne's  whole  attitude  was  that  of 
stubborn  pride  and  resentment ;  his  atonement  was  that  enforced  by  the 
unanimous  verdict  of  his  comrades ;  and  even  if  it  were  so  that  he  had 
more  than  made  amends  for  his  crime,  the  rules  that  held  good  for 
ordinary  sinners  were  not  applicable  to  an  officer  of  the  army.  He 
must  be  a  man  above  suspicion,  incapable  of  wrong  or  fraud,  and  once 
stained  he  was  forever  ineligible  as  a  gentleman.  It  was  a  subject  on 
which  she  waxed  declamatory  rather  too  often,  and  the  youngsters  of 
her  own  regiment  wearied  of  it.  As  Mr.  Foster  once  expressed  it  in 
speaking  of  this  very  case,  "  Mrs.  Rayner  can  talk  more  charity  and 
show  less  than  any  woman  I  know."  So  long  as  her  talk  was  aimed, 
against  any  lurking  tendency  of  their  own  to  look  upon  Hayne  as  a 
possible  martyr,  it  fell  at  times  on  unappreciative  ears,  and  she  was 
quick  to  see  it  and  to  choose  her  hearers ;  but  here  was  a  new  phase, — 
one  that  might  rouse  the  latent  esprit  de  corps  of  the  Riders, — and  she 
was  bent  on  striking  while  the  iron  was  hot.  If  anything  would 
provoke  unanimity  of  action  and  sentiment  in  the  regiment,  this  public 
recognition  by  the  cavalry,  in  their  very  presence,  of  the  man  they  cut 
as  a  criminal,  was  the  thing  of  all  others  to  do  it ;  and  she  meant  to 
head  the  revolt. 

Possibly  Gregg  and  his  modest  helpmeet  discovered  that  there  was 
something  she  desired  to  "  spring"  upon  the  meeting.  The  others  present 
were  all  of  the  infantry ;  and  when  Captain  Rayner  simply  glanced  in, 
upoke  hurried  good -evenings,  and  went  as  hurriedly  out  again,  Gregg 


62  THE  DESERTER. 

was  sure  of  it,  and  marched  his  wife  away.  Then  came  Mrs.  Rayner's 
opportunity : 

"  If  it  were  not  Captain  Rayner's  house,  I  could  not  have  been 
even  civil  to  Captain  Gregg.  You  heard  what  he  said  at  the  club  this 
morning,  I  suppose?" 

In  one  form  or  another,  indeed,  almost  everybody  had  heard.  The 
officers  present  maintained  an  embarrassed  silence.  Miss  Travers 
looked  reproachfully  at  her  flushed  sister,  but  to  no  purpose.  At  last 
one  of  the  ladies  remarked, — 

"  Well,  of  course  I  heard  of  it,  but — I've  heard  so  many  different 
versions.  It  seems  to  have  grown  somewhat  since  morning." 

"  It  sounds  just  like  him,  however,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  "  and  I 
made  inquiry  before  speaking  of  it.  He  said  he  meant  to  invite  Mr. 
Hayne  to  his  house  to-morrow  evening,  and  if  the  infantry  didn't  like 
it  they  could  stay  away." 

"  Well,  now,  Mrs.  Rayner,"  protested  Mr.  Foster,  "  of  course 
none  of  us  heard  what  he  said  exactly,  but  it  is  my  experience  that 
no  conversation  was  ever  repeated  without  being  exaggerated,  and  I've 
Known  old  Gregg  for  ever  so  long,  and  never  heard  him  say  a  sharp 
thing  yet.  Why,  he's  the  mildest-mannered  fellow  in  the  whole  — th 
Cavalry.  He  would  never  get  into  such  a  snarl  as  that  would  bring 
about  him  in  five  minutes." 

"  Well,  he  said  he  would  do  just  as  the  colonel  did,  anyway, — we 
have  that  straight  from  cavalry  authority, — and  we  all  know  what  the 
colonel  has  done.  He  has  chosen  to  honor  Mr.  Hayne  in  the  presence 
of  the  officers  who  denounce  him,  and  practically  defies  the  opinion  of 
the  Riflers." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Rayner,  I  did  not  understand  Gregg's  remarks  to  be 
what  you  say,  exactly.  Blake  told  me  that  when  asked  by  somebody 
whether  he  was  going  to  call  on  Mr.  Hayne,  Gregg  simply  replied  he 
didn't  know, — he  would  ask  the  colonel." 

"  Very  well.  That  means,  he  proposes  to  be  guided  by  the  colonel, 
or  nothing  at  all ;  and  Captain  Gregg  is  simply  doing  what  the  others 
will  do.  They  say  to  us,  in  so  many  words,  '  We  prefer  the  society  of 
your  bete  noire  to  your  own.'  That's  the  way  I  look  at  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Rayner,  in  deep  excitement. 

It  was  evident  that,  though  none  were  prepared  to  endorse  so  ex- 
treme a  view,  there  was  a  strong  feeling  that  the  colonel  had  put  an 
affiont  upon  the  Riflers  by  his  open  welcome  to  Mr.  Hayne.  He  had 


THE  DESERTER.  53 

been  exacting  before,  and  had  caused  a  good  deal  of  growling  among  the 
officers  and  comment  among  the  women.  They  were  ready  to  find 
fault,  and  here  was  strong  provocation.  Mr.  Foster  was  a  youth  of 
unfortunate  and  unpopular  propensities.  He  should  have  held  his 
tongue,  instead  of  striving  to  stem  the  tide. 

"  I  don't  uphold  Hayne  any  more  than  you  do,  Mrs.  Eayner,  but 
it  seems  to  me  this  is  a  case  where  the  colonel  has  to  make  some  ac- 
knowledgment of  Mr.  Hayne's  conduct " 

"  Very  good.  Let  him  write  him  a  letter,  then,  thanking  him  in 
the  name  of  the  regiment,  but  don't  pick  him  up  like  this  in  the  face 
of  ours,"  interrupted  one  of  the  juniors,  who  was  seated  near  Miss 
Travers  (a  wise  stroke  of  policy :  Mrs.  Rayner  invited  him  to  break- 
fast) ;  and  there  was  a  chorus  of  approbation. 

"  Well,  hold  on  a  moment,"  said  Foster.  "  Hasn't  the  colonel  had 
every  one  of  us  to  dinner  more  or  less  frequently  ?" 

"  Admitted.     But  what's  that  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  Hasn't  he  invariably  invited  each  officer  to  dine  with  him  in  every 
case  where  an  officer  has  arrived  ?" 

"  Granted.     But  what  then  ?" 

"If  he  broke  the  rule  or  precedent  in  Mr.  Hayne's  case  would 
he  not  practically  be  saying  that  he  endorsed  the  views  of  the  court- 
martial  as  opposed  to  those  of  the  department  commander,  General 
Sherman,  the  Secretary  of  War,  the  President  of  the  United " 

"  Oh,  make  out  your  transfer  papers,  Foster.  You  ought  to  be  in 
the  cavalry  or  some  other  disputatious  branch  of  the  service,"  burst  in 
Mr.  Graham. 

"  I  declare,  Mr.  Foster,  I  never  thought  you  would  abandon  your 
colors,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner. 

"  I  haven't,  madame,  and  you've  no  right  to  say  so,"  said  Foster,  in- 
dignantly. "  I  simply  hold  that  any  attempt  to  work  up  a  regimental 
row  out  of  this  thing  will  make  bad  infinitely  worse,  and  I  deprecate 
the  whole  business." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  to  intimate  that  Captain  Rayner's  position 
and  that  of  the  regiment  is  bad, — all  wrong, — that  Mr.  Hayne  has 
been  persecuted,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  with  trembling  lips  and  cheeks 
aflame. 

"  Mrs.  Rayner,  you  are  unjust,"  said  poor  Foster.  "  I  ought  not 
to  have  undertaken  to  explain  or  defend  the  colonel's  act,  perhaps,  but 
T  am  not  disloyal  to  my  regiment  or  my  colors.  What  I  want  is  to 


54  THE  DESERTER. 

prevent  further  trouble;  and  I  know  that  anything  like  a  concerted 
resentment  of  the  colonel's  invitation  will  lead  to  infinite  harm." 

"  You  may  cringe  and  bow  and  bear  it  if  you  choose;  you  may 
humble  yourself  to  such  a  piece  of  insolence ;  but  rest  assured  there  are 
plenty  of  men  and  women  in  the  Riflers  who  won't  bear  it,  Mr.  Foster ; 
and  for  one  I  won't."  She  had  risen  to  her  full  height  now,  and  her 
eyes  were  blazing.  "  For  his  own  sake  I  trust  the  colonel  will  omit 
our  names  from  the  next  entertainment  he  gives.  Nellie  shan't " 

"  Oh,  think,  Mrs.  Eayner  !"  interrupted  one  of  the  ladies ;  "  they 
must  give  her  a  dinner  or  a  reception." 

"Indeed  they  shall  not !  I  refuse  to  enter  the  door  of  people  who 
have  insulted  my  husband  as  they  have." 

"  Hush  !    Listen  !"  said  Mr.  Graham,  springing  towards  the  door. 

There  was  wondering  silence  an  instant. 

"  It  is  nothing  but  the  trumpet  sounding  taps,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner, 
hurriedly. 

But  even  as  she  spoke  they  rose  to  their  feet.  Muffled  cries  were 
heard,  borne  in  on  the  night  wind, — a  shot,  then  another,  down  in  the 
ralley, — the  quick  peal  of  the  cavalry  trumpet. 

"  It  isn't  taps.  It's  fire  !"  shouted  Graham  from  the  door-way. 
'< Come  on!" 

V. 

Down  in  the  valley  south  of  the  post  a  broad  glare  was  already 
shooting  upward  and  illumining  the  sky.  One  among  a  dozen  little 
shanties  and  log  houses,  the  homes  of  the  laundresses  of  the  garrison 
and  collectively  known  as  Sudsville,  was  a  mass  of  flames.  There  was 
a  rush  of  officers  across  the  parade,  and  the  men,  answering  the  alarum 
of  the  trumpet  and  the  shots  and  shouts  of  the  sentries,  came  tearing 
from  their  quarters  and  plunging  down  the  hill.  Among  the  first  on 
the  spot  came  the  young  men  who  were  of  the  party  at  Captain  Ray- 
ner's,  and  Mr.  Graham  was  ahead  of  them  all.  It  was  plain  to  the 
most  inexperienced  eye  that  there  was  hardly  anything  left  to  save  in 
or  about  the  burning  shanty.  All  efforts  must  be  directed  towards  pre- 
venting the  spread  of  the  flames  to  those  adjoining.  Half-clad  women 
and  children  were  rushing  about,  shrieking  with  fright  and  excitement, 
and  a  few  men  were  engaged  in  dragging  household  goods  and  furniture 
from  those  tenements  not  yet  reached  by  the  flames.  Fire-apparatus 
there  seemed  to  be  none,  though  squads  of  men  speedily  appeared  with 


THE  DESERTER.  56 

ladders,  axes,  and  buckets,  brought  from  the  different  company  quarters, 
and  the  arriving  officers  quickly  formed  the  bucket-lines  and  water 
dipped  up  from  the  icy  creek  began  to  fly  from  hand  to  hand.  Before 
anything  like  this  was  fairly  under  way,  a  scene  of  semi-tragic,  semi- 
comic  intensity  had  been  enacted  in  the  presence  of  a  rapidly  gathering 
audience.  "  It  was  worth  more  than  the  price  of  admission  to  hear 
Blake  tell  it  afterwards,"  said  the  officers,  later. 

A  tall,  angular  woman,  frantic  with  excitement  and  terror,  wa? 
dancing  about  in  the  broad  glare  of  the  burning  hut,  tearing  her  hair, 
making  wild  rushes  at  the  flames  from  time  to  time  as  though  intent  on 
dragging  out  some  prized  object  that  was  being  consumed  before  her 
eyes,  and  all  the  time  keeping  up  a  volley  of  maledictions  and  abuse  in 
lavish  Hibernian,  apparently  directed  at  a  cowering  object  who  sat  in 
limp  helplessness  upon  a  little  heap  of  fire-wood,  swaying  from  side  to 
side  and  moaning  stupidly  through  the  scorched  and  grimy  hands  in 
which  his  face  was  hidden.  His  clothing  was  still  smoking  in  places  ; 
his  hair  and  beard  were  singed  to  the  roots ;  he  was  evidently  seriously 
injured,  and  the  sympathizing  soldiers  who  had  gathered  around  him 
after  deluging  him  with  snow  and  water  were  striving  to  get  him  to 
arise  and  go  with  them  to  the  hospital.  A  little  girl,  not  ten  years 
old,  knelt  sobbing  and  terrified  by  his  side.  She,  too,  was  scorched  and 
singed,  and  the  soldiers  had  thrown  rough  blankets  about  her ;  but  it 
was  for  her  father,  not  herself,  she  seemed  worried  to  distraction.  Some 
of  the  women  were  striving  to  reassure  and  comfort  her  in  their  homely 
fashion,  bidding  her  cheer  up, — the  father  was  only  stupid  from  drink, 
and  would  be  all  right  as  soon  as  "  the  liquor  was  off  of  him."  But 
the  little  one  was  beyond  consolation  so  long  as  he  could  not  or  would 
not  speak  in  answer  to  her  entreaties. 

All  this  time,  never  pausing  for  breath,  shrieking  anathemas  on  her 
drunken  spouse,  reproaches  on  her  frightened  child,  and  invocations  to 
all  the  blessed  saints  in  heaven  to  reward  the  gintleman  who  had  saved 
her  hoarded  money, — a  smoking  packet  that  she  hugged  to  her  breast, 
— Mrs.  Clancy,  "the  saynior  laundress  of  Company  B,"  as  she  had 
long  styled  herself,  was  prancing  up  and  down  through  the  gathering 
crowd,  her  shrill  voice  overmastering  all  other  clamor.  The  vigorous 
efforts  of  the  men,  directed  by  cool-headed  officers,  soon  beat  back  the 
flames  that  were  threatening  the  neighboring  shanties,  and  levelled  to 
the  ground  what  remained  of  Private  Clancy's  home.  The  fire  was 
extinguished  almost  as  rapidly  as  it  began,  but  the  torrent  of  Mrs. 


66  THE  DESERTER. 

Clancy's  eloquence  was  still  unstemmed.  The  adjurations  of  sympa- 
thetic sisters  to  "  Howld  yer  whist,"  the  authoritative  admonition  of 
some  old  sergeant  to  "  Stop  your  infernal  noise,"  and  the  half-maudlin 
yet  appealing  glances  of  her  suffering  lord  were  all  insufficient  to  check 
her.  It  was  not  until  the  quiet  tones  of  the  colonel  were  heard  that  she 
began  to  cool  down  :  "  We've  had  enough  of  this,  Mrs.  Clancy  :  be  still, 
now,  or  we'll  have  to  send  you  to  the  hospital  in  the  coal-cart."  Mrs. 
Clancy  knew  that  the  colonel  was  a  man  of  few  words,  and  believed  him 
to  be  one  of  less  sentiment.  She  was  afraid  of  him,  and  concluded  it 
time  to  cease  threats  and  abuse  and  come  down  to  the  more  effective  role 
of  wronged  and  suffering  womanhood, — a  feat  which  she  accomplished 
with  the  consummate  ease  of  long  practice,  for  the  rows  in  the  Clancy 
household  were  matters  of  garrison  notoriety.  The  surgeon,  too,  had 
come,  and,  after  quick  examination  of  Clancy's  condition,  had  directed 
him  to  be  taken  at  once  to  the  hospital ;  and  thither  his  little  daughter 
insisted  on  following  him,  despite  the  efforts  of  some  of  the  women  to 
detain  her  and  dress  her  properly. 

Before  returning  to  his  quarters  the  colonel  desired  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  origin  of  the  fire.  There  was  testimony  enough  and  to 
spare.  Every  woman  in  Sudsville  had  a  theory  to  express,  and  was 
eager  to  be  heard  at  once  and  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  It  was 
not  until  he  had  summarily  ordered  them  to  go  to  their  homes  and  not 
come  near  him  that  the  colonel  managed  to  get  a  clear  statement  from 
some  of  the  men. 

Clancy  had  been  away  all  the  evening,  drinking  as  usual,  and  Mrs. 
Clancy  was  searching  about  Sudsville  as  much  for  sympathy  and 
listeners  as  for  him.  Little  Kate,  who  knew  her  father's  haunts,  had 
guided  him  home,  and  was  striving  to  get  him  to  his  little  sleeping- 
corner  before  her  mother's  return,  when  in  his  drunken  helplessness  he 
fell  against  the  table,  overturning  the  kerosene  lamp,  and  the  curtains 
were  all  aflame  in  an  instant.  It  was  just  after  taps — or  ten  o'clock — 
when  Kate's  shrieks  aroused  the  inmates  of  Sudsville  and  started  the 
cry  of  "  Fire."  The  flimsy  structure  of  pine  boards  burned  like  so 
much  tinder,  and  the  child  and  her  stupefied  father  had  been  dragged 
forth  only  in  time  to  save  their  lives.  The  little  one,  after  giving  the 
alarm,  had  rushed  again  into  the  house  and  was  tugging  at  his  senseless 
form  when  rescue  came  for  both, — none  too  soon.  As  for  Mrs.  Clancy, 
at  the  first  note  of  danger  she  had  rushed  screaming  to  the  spot,  but 
only  in  time  to  see  the  whole  interior  ablaze  and  to  howl  frantically 


THE  DESERTER.  57 

lor  some  man  to  save  her  money, — it  was  all  in  the  green  box  under 
the  bed.  For  husband  and  child  she  had  for  the  moment  no  thought. 
They  were  safely  out  of  the  fire  by  the  time  she  got  there,  and  she 
screamed  and  fought  like  a  fury  against  the  men  who  held  her  back 
when  she  would  have  plunged  into  the  midst  of  it.  It  took  but  a 
minute  for  one  or  two  men  to  burst  through  the  flimsy  wall  with  axes, 
to  rescue  the  burning  box  and  knock  off  the  lid.  It  was  a  sight  to  see 
when  the  contents  were  handed  to  her.  She  knelt,  wept,  prayed,  counted 
over  bill  after  bill  of  smoking,  steaming  greenbacks,  until  suddenly 
recalled  to  her  senses  by  the  eager  curiosity  and  the  remarks  of  some 
of  her  fellow-women.  That  she  kept  money  and  a  good  deal  of  it  in 
her  quarters  had  long  been  suspected  and  as  fiercely  denied ;  but  no 
one  had  dreamed  of  such  a  sum  as  was  revealed.  In  her  frenzy  she 
had  shrieked  that  the  savings  of  her  lifetime  were  burning, — that 
there  was  over  three  thousand  dollars  in  the  box ;  but  she  hid  her 
treasure  and  gasped  and  stammered  and  swore  she  was  talking  "  wild- 
like."  "  They  was  nothing  but  twos  and  wans,"  she  vowed ;  yet  there 
were  women  there  who  declared  that  they  had  seen  tens  and  twenties  as 
she  hurried  them  through  her  trembling  fingers,  and  Sudsville  gossiped 
and  talked  for  two  hours  after  she  was  led  away,  still  moaning  and 
shivering,  to  the  bedside  of  poor  Clancy,  who  was  the  miserable  cause 
of  it  all.  The  colonel  listened  to  the  stories  with  such  patience  as  could 
be  accorded  to  witnesses  who  desired  to  give  prominence  to  their  per- 
sonal exploits  in  subduing  the  flames  and  rescuing  life  and  property. 
It  was  not  until  he  and  the  group  of  officers  with  him  had  been  en- 
gaged some  moments  in  taking  testimony  that  something  was  elicited 
which  caused  a  new  sensation. 

It  was  not  by  the  united  efforts  of  Sudsville  that  Clancy  and  Kate 
had  been  dragged  from  the  flames,  but  by  the  individual  dash  and  de- 
termination of  a  single  man :  there  was  no  discrepancy  here,  for  the 
ten  or  a  dozen  who  were  wildly  rushing  about  the  house  made  no  effort 
to  burst  into  it  until  a  young  soldier  leaped  through  their  midst  into 
the  blazing  door-way,  was  seen  to  throw  a  blanket  over  some  object 
within,  and  the  next  minute  appeared  again,  dragging  a  body  through 
the  flames.  Then  they  had  sprung  to  his  aid,  and  between  them  Kate 
and  "  the  ould  man"  were  lifted  into  the  open  air.  A  moment  later  he 
had  handed  Mrs.  Clancy  her  packet  of  money,  and — they  hadn't  seen 
him  since.  He  was  an  officer,  said  they, — a  new  one.  They  thought 
it  must  be  the  new  lieutenant  of  Companv  B ;  and  the  colonel  looked 
c* 


S8  THE  DESERTER. 

quickly  around  and  said  a  few  words  to  his  adjutant,  who  started  up 
the  hill  forthwith.  A  group  of  officers  and  ladies  were  standing  at  the 
brow  of  the  plateau  east  of  the  guard-house,  gazing  down  upon  the 
Bcene  below,  and  other  ladies,  with  their  escorts,  had  gathered  on  a  little 
knoll  close  by  the  road  that  led  to  Prairie  Avenue.  It  was  past  these 
that  the  adjutant  walked  rapidly  away,  swinging  his  hurricane-lamp  in 
his  hand. 

"Which  way  now,  Billings?"  called  one  of  the  cavalry  officers  in 
the  group. 

"  Over  to  Mr.  Hayne's  quarters,"  he  shouted  back,  never  stopping 
at  all. 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  group  at  mention  of  the  name.  They  were 
the  ladies  from  Captain  Rayner's  and  a  few  of  their  immediate  friends. 
All  eyes  followed  the  twinkling  light  as  it  danced  away  eastward  towards 
the  gloomy  coal-sheds.  Then  there  was  sudden  and  intense  interest. 
The  lamp  had  come  to  a  stand-still,  was  deposited  on  the  ground,  and 
by  its  dim  ray  the  adjutant  could  be  seen  bending  over  a  dark  object 
that  was  half  sitting,  half  reclining  at  the  platform  of  the  shed.  Then 
came  a  shout,  "  Come  here,  some  of  you."  And  most  of  the  men  ran 
to  the  spot. 

For  a  moment  not  one  word  was  spoken  in  the  watching  group : 
then  Miss  Travers's  voice  was  heard  : 

"  What  can  it  be  ?     Why  do  they  stop  there  ?" 

She  felt  a  sudden  hand  upon  her  wrist,  and  her  sister's  lips  at  her 
ear: 

"  Come  away,  Nellie.     I  want  to  go  home.     Come !" 

"  But,  Kate,  I  must  see  what  it  means." 

"  No  :  come !  It's — it's  only  some  other  drunken  man,  probably. 
Come  !"  And  she  strove  to  lead  her. 

But  the  other  ladies  were  curious  too,  and  all,  insensibly,  were  edging 
over  to  the  east  as  though  eager  to  get  in  sight  of  the  group.  The  re- 
cumbent object  had  been  raised,  and  was  seen  to  be  the  dark  figure  of  a 
man  whom  the  others  began  slowly  to  lead  away.  One  of  the  group 
came  running  back  to  them  :  it  was  Mr.  Foster. 

"  Come,  ladies :  I  will  escort  you  home,  as  the  others  are  busy." 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Foster?"  was  asked  by  half  a  dozen 
voices. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Hayne, — badly  burned,  I  fear.  He  was  trying  to  get 
home  after  having  saved  poor  Clancy." 


THE  DESERTER.  69 

"  You  don't  say  so !  Oh,  isn't  there  something  we  can  do  ?  Can't 
we  go  that  way  and  be  of  some  help  ?"  was  the  eager  petition  of  more 
than  one  of  the  ladies. 

"  Not  now.  They  will  have  the  doctor  in  a  minute.  He  has  not 
inhaled  flame ;  it  is  all  external ;  but  he  was  partly  blinded  and  could 
not  find  his  way.  He  called  to  Billings  when  he  heard  him  coming. 
I  will  get  you  all  home  and  then  go  back  to  him.  Come!"  And, 
offering  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Rayner,  who  was  foremost  in  the  direction  he 
wanted  to  go, — the  pathway  across  the  parade, — Mr.  Foster  led  them 
on.  Of  course  there  was  eager  talk  and  voluble  sympathy ;  but  Mrs. 
Rayner  spoke  not  a  word.  The  others  crowded  around  him  with 
questions,  and  her  silence  passed  unnoted  except  by  one. 

The  moment  they  were  inside  the  door  and  alone,  Miss  Travers 
turned  to  her  sister :  "  Kate,  what  was  this  man's  crime  ? 

VI. 

An  unusual  state  of  affairs  existed  at  the  big  hospital  for  several 
days :  Mrs.  Clancy  had  refused  to  leave  the  bedside  of  her  beloved 
Mike,  and  was  permitted  to  remain.  For  a  woman  who  was  notorious 
as  a  virago  and  bully,  who  had  beaten  little  Kate  from  her  babyhood 
and  abused  and  hammered  her  Michael  until,  between  her  and  drink, 
he  was  but  the  wreck  of  a  stalwart  manhood,  Mrs.  Clancy  had  de- 
veloped a  degree  of  devotion  that  was  utterly  unexpected.  In  all  the 
dozen  years  of  their  marital  relations  no  such  trait  could  be  recalled  j 
and  yet  there  had  been  many  an  occasion  within  the  past  few  years  when 
Clancy's  condition  demanded  gentle  nursing  and  close  attention, — and 
never  would  have  got  it  but  for  faithful  little  Kate.  The  child  idolized 
the  broken-down  man,  and  loved  him  with  a  tenderness  that  his  weak- 
ness seemed  but  to  augment  a  thousandfold,  while  it  but  served  to  in- 
furiate her  mother.  In  former  years,  when  he  was  Sergeant  Clancy 
and  a  fine  soldier,  many  was  the  time  he  had  intervened  to  save  h^r 
from  an  undeserved  thrashing ;  many  a  time  had  he  seized  her  in  bis 
strong  arms  and  confronted  the  furious  woman  with  stern  reproof. 
Between  him  and  the  child  there  had  been  the  tenderest  love,  for  she 
was  all  that  was  left  to  him  of  four.  In  the  old  days  Mrs.  Clancy  had 
l>een  the  belle  of  the  soldiers'  balls,  a  fine-looking  woman,  with  indom- 
itable powers  as  a  dancer  and  conversationalist  and  an  envied  repu- 
tation for  outshining  all  her  rivals  in  dress  and  adornment.  "She 


60  THE  DESERTER. 

would  ruin  Clancy,  that  she  would,"  was  the  unanimous  opinion  of  tho 
soldiers'  wives ;  but  he  seemed  to  minister  to  her  extravagance  with 
unfailing  good  nature  for  two  or  three  years.  He  had  been  prudent, 
careful  of  his  money,  was  a  war-soldier  with  big  arrears  of  bounty  and, 
tradition  had  it,  a  consummate  skill  in  poker.  He  was  the  moneyed 
man  among  the  sergeants  when  the  dashing  relict  of  a  brother  non- 
commissioned officer  set  her  widow's  cap  for  him  and  won.  It  did 
not  take  many  years  for  her  to  wheedle  most  of  his  money  away ;  but 
there  was  no  cessation  to  the  demand,  no  apparent  limit  to  the  supply. 
Both  were  growing  older,  and  now  it  became  evident  that  Mrs.  Clancy 
was  the  elder  of  the  two,  and  that  the  artificiality  of  her  charms  could 
not  stand  the  test  of  frontier  life.  No  longer  sought  as  the  belle  of  the 
soldiers'  ball-rooms,  she  aspired  to  leadership  among  their  wives  aud 
families,  and  was  accorded  that  pre-eminence  rather  than  the  fierce 
battle  which  was  sure  to  follow  any  revolt.  She  became  avaricious, — 
some  said  miserly, — and  Clancy  miserable.  Then  began  the  down- 
ward course.  He  took  to  drink  soon  after  his  return  from  a  long,  hard 
summer's  campaign  with  the  Indians.  He  lost  his  sergeant's  stripes 
and  went  into  the  ranks.  There  came  a  time  when  the  new  colonel 
forbade  his  re-enlistment  in  the  cavalry  regiment  in  which  he  had 
served  so  many  a  long  year.  He  had  been  a  brave  and  devoted  soldier. 
He  had  a  good  friend  in  the  infantry,  he  said,  who  wouldn't  go  back 
on  a  poor  fellow  who  took  a  drop  too  much  at  times,  and,  to  the  sur- 
prise of  many  soldiers, — officers  and  men, — he  was  brought  to  the  re- 
cruiting officer  one  day,  sober,  soldierly,  and  trimly  dressed,  and  Cap- 
tain Rayner  expressed  his  desire  to  have  him  enlisted  for  his  company ; 
and  it  was  done.  Mrs.  Clancy  was  accorded  the  quarters  and  rations 
of  a  laundress,  as  was  then  the  custom,  and  for  a  time — a  very  short 
time — Clancy  seemed  on  the  road  to  promotion  to  his  old  grade.  The 
enemy  tripped  him,  aided  by  the  scoldings  and  abuse  of  his  wife,  and 
he  never  rallied.  Some  work  was  found  for  him  around  the  quarter- 
master's shops  which  saved  him  from  guard-duty  or  the  guard-house. 
The  infantry — officers  and  men — seemed  to  feel  for  the  poor,  broken- 
down  old  fellow  and  to  lay  much  of  his  woe  to  the  door  of  his  wife. 
There  was  charity  for  his  faults  and  sympathy  for  his  sorrows,  but  at 
last  it  had  come  to  this.  He  was  lying,  sorely  injured,  in  the  hospital, 
and  there  were  times  when  he  was  apparently  delirious.  At  such 
times,  said  Mrs.  Clancy,  she  alone  could  manage  him ;  and  she  urged 
that  no  other  nurse  could  do  more  than  excite  or  irritate  him.  To  the 


THE  DESERTER.  61 

unspeakable  grief  of  little  Kate,  she,  too,  was  driven  from  the  sufferer's 
bedside  and  forbidden  to  come  into  the  room  except  when  her  mother 
gave  permission.  Clancy  had  originally  been  carried  into  the  general 
ward  with  the  other  patients,  but  the  hospital  steward  two  days  after- 
wards told  the  surgeon  that  the  patient  moaned  and  cried  so  at  night 
that  the  other  sick  men  could  not  sleep,  and  offered  to  give  up  a  little 
room  in  his  own  part  of  the  building.  The  burly  doctor  looked  sur- 
prised at  this  concession  on  the  part  of  the  steward,  who  was  a  man 
tenacious  of  every  perquisite  and  one  who  had  made  much  complaint 
about  the  crowded  condition  of  the  hospital  wards  and  small  rooms 
ever  since  the  frozen  soldiers  had  come  in.  All  the  same  the  doctor 
asked  for  no  explanation,  but  gladly  availed  himself  of  the  steward's 
offer.  Clancy  was  moved  to  this  little  room  adjoining  the  steward's 
quarters  forthwith,  and  Mrs.  Clancy  was  satisfied. 

Another  thing  had  happened  to  excite  remark  and  a  good  deal  of  it. 
Nothing  short  of  eternal  damnation  was  Mrs.  Clancy's  frantic  sentence 
on  the  head  of  her  unlucky  spouse  the  night  of  the  fire,  when  she  was 
the  central  figure  of  the  picture  and  when  hundreds  of  witnesses  to  her 
words  were  grouped  around.  Correspondingly  had  she  called  down  the 
blessings  of  the  Holy  Virgin  and  all  the  saints  upon  the  man  who  res- 
cued and  returned  to  her  that  precious  packet  of  money.  Everybody 
heard  her,  and  it  was  out  of  the  question  for  her  to  retract.  Neverthe- 
less, from  within  an  hour  after  Clancy's  admission  to  the  hospital  not 
another  word  of  the  kind  escaped  her  lips.  She  was  all  patience  and 
pity  with  the  injured  man,  and  she  shunned  all  allusion  to  his  pre- 
server and  her  benefactor.  The  surgeon  had  been  called  away,  after 
doing  all  in  his  power  to  make  Clancy  comfortable, — he  was  needed 
elsewhere, — and  only  two  or  three  soldiers  and  a  hospital  nurse  still 
remained  by  his  bedside,  where  Mrs.  Clancy  and  little  Kate  were  dry- 
ing their  tears  and  receiving  consolation  from  the  steward's  wife.  The 
doctor  had  mentioned  a  name  as  he  went  away,  and  it  was  seen  that 
Clancy  was  striving  to  ask  a  question.  Sergeant  Nolan  bent  down  : 

"  Lie  quiet,  Clancy,  me  boy :  you  must  be  quiet,  or  you'll  move  the 
bandages." 

"Who  did  he  say  was  burned?  who  was  he  going  to  see?"  gasped 
the  sufferer. 

"  The  new  lieutenant,  Clancy, — him  that  pulled  ye  out.  He's  a 
good  one,  and  it's  Mrs.  Clancy  that'll  tell  ye  the  same." 

"  Tell  him  what  ?"  said  she,  turning  about  in  sudden  interest. 


32  THE  DESERTER. 

"  About  the  lieutenant's  pulling  him  out  of  the  fire  and  saving  your 
money." 

"  Indeed  yes !  The  blessings  of  all  the  saints  be  upon  his  beautiful 
bead,  and " 

"  But  who  was  it  ?  What  was  his  name,  I  say  ?"  vehemently  inter- 
rupted Clancy,  half  raising  himself  upon  his  elbow,  and  groaning  with 
the  effort.  "  What  was  his  name  ?  I  didn't  see  him." 

"  Lieutenant  Hayne,  man." 

"  Oh,  my  God  !"  gasped  Clancy,  and  fell  back  as  though  struck  a 
sudden  blow. 

She  sprang  to  his  side  :  "  It's  faint  he  is.  Don't  answer  his  ques- 
tions, sergeant !  He's  beside  himself !  Oh,  will  ye  never  stop  talking 
to  him  and  lave  him  in  pace  ?  Go  away,  all  of  ye's, — go  away,  I  say, 

or  ye'll  dhrive  him  crazy  wid  yer Be  quiet,  Mike  !  don't  ye  spake 

agin."  And  she  laid  a  broad  red  hand  upon  his  face.  He  only  groaned 
again,  and  threw  his  one  unbandaged  arm  across  his  darkened  eyes,  as 
though  to  hide  from  sight  of  all. 

From  that  time  on  she  made  no  mention  of  the  name  that  so 
strangely  excited  her  stricken  husband ;  but  the  watchers  in  the  hos- 
pital the  next  night  declared  that  in  his  ravings  Clancy  kept  calling  for 
Lieutenant  Hayne. 

Stannard's  battalion  of  the  cavalry  came  marching  into  the  post  two 
days  after  the  fire,  and  created  a  diversion  in  the  garrison  talk,  which 
for  one  long  day  had  been  all  of  that  dramatic  incident  and  its  attend- 
ant circumstances.  In  social  circles,  among  the  officers  and  ladies,  the 
main  topic  was  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Hayne  and  the  injuries  he  had  sus- 
tained as  a  consequence  of  his  gallant  rescue.  Among  the  enlisted  men 
and  the  denizens  of  Sudsville  the  talk  was  principally  of  the  revelation 
of  Mrs.  Clancy's  hoard  of  greenbacks.  But  in  both  circles  a  singular 
story  was  just  beginning  to  creep  around,  and  it  was  to  the  effect  thai 
Clancy  had  cried  aloud  and  fainted  dead  away  and  that  Mrs.  Clancy 
had  gone  into  hysterics  when  they  were  told  that  Lieutenant  Hayne 
was  the  man  to  whom  the  one  owed  his  life  and  the  other  her  money. 
Some  one  met  Captain  Rayner  on  the  sidewalk  the  morning  Stannard 
came  marching  home,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  heard  the  queer  story 
about  Clancy.  He  had  not,  and  it  was  told  him  then  and  there,  llay- 
ner  did  not  even  attempt  to  laugh  at  it  or  turn  it  off  in  any  way.  He 
looked  dazed,  stunned,  for  a  moment,  turned  very  white  and  old-looking, 
and,  hardly  saying  good-day  to  his  informant,  faced  about  and  went 


THE  DESERTER.  63 

straight  to  his  quarters.  He  was  not  among  the  crowd  that  gathered  to 
welcome  the  incoming  cavalrymen  that  bright,  crisp,  winter  day;  and 
that  evening  Mrs.  Rayner  went  to  the  hospital  to  ask  what  she  could  do 
for  Clancy  and  his  wife.  Captain  Rayner  always  expected  her  to  see 
that  every  care  and  attention  was  paid  to  the  sick  and  needy  of  his 
company,  she  explained  to  the  doctor,  who  could  not  recall  having 
seen  her  on  a  similar  errand  before,  although  sick  and  needy  of  Com- 
pany B  were  not  unknown  in  garrisons  where  he  had  served  with  them. 
She  spent  a  good  while  with  Mrs.  Clancy,  whom  she  had  never  noticed 
hitherto,  much  to  the  laundress's  indignation,  and  concerning  whose 
conduct  she  had  been  known  to  express  herself  in  terms  of  extreme  dis- 
approbation. But  in  times  of  suffering  such  things  are  forgotten  :  Mrs. 
Rayner  was  full  of  sympathy  and  interest ;  there  was  nothing  she  was 
not  eager  to  send  them,  and  no  thanks  were  necessary.  She  could  never 
do  too  much  for  the  men  of  her  husband's  company. 

Yet  there  was  a  member  of  her  husband's  company  on  whom  ID 
his  suffering  neither  she  nor  the  captain  saw  fit  to  call.  Mr.  Hayne's 
eyes  were  seriously  injured  by  the  flames  and  heat,  and  he  was  now 
living  in  darkness.  It  might  be  a  month,  said  the  doctor,  before  he 
could  use  his  eyes  again. 

"  Only  think  of  that  poor  fellow,  all  alone  out  there  on  that  ghastly 
prairie  and  unable  to  read  !"  was  the  exclamation  of  one  of  the  cavalry 
ladies  in  Mrs.  Rayner's  presence ;  and,  as  there  was  an  awkward  silence 
and  somebody  had  to  break  it,  Mrs.  Rayner  responded, — 

"  If  I  lived  on  Prairie  Avenue  I  should  consider  blindness  a 
blessing." 

It  was  an  unfortunate  remark.  There  was  strong  sympathy  develop- 
ing for  Hayne  all  through  the  garrison.  Mrs.  Rayner  never  meant  that 
it  should  have  any  such  significance,  but  inside  of  twenty-four  hours, 
in  course  of  which  her  language  had  been  repeated  some  dozens  of  times 
and  distorted  quite  as  many,  the  generally  accepted  version  of  the  story 
was  that  Mrs.  Rayner,  so  far  from  expressing  the  faintest  sympathy  or 
sorrow  for  Mr.  Hayne's  misfortune,  so  far  from  expressing  the  natural 
gratification  which  a  lady  should  feel  that  it  was  an  officer  of  her  regi- 
ment who  had  reached  the  scene  of  danger  ahead  of  the  cavalry  officer 
of  the  guard,  had  said  in  so  many  words  that  Mr.  Hayne  ought  to  be 
thankful  that  blindness  was  the  worst  thing  that  had  come  to  him. 

There  was  little  chance  for  harmony  after  that.  Many  men  and 
some  women,  of  course,  refused  to  believe  it,  and  said  they  felt  confident 


64  THE  DESERTER. 

that  she  had  been  misrepresented.  Still,  all  knew  by  this  time  that  Mrs. 
Rayner  was  bitter  against  Hayne,  and  had  heard  of  her  denunciation  of 
the  colonel's  action.  So,  too,  had  the  colonel  heard  that  she  openly  de- 
clared that  she  would  refuse  any  invitation  extended  to  her  or  to  her 
sister  which  might  involve  her  accepting  hospitality  at  his  house.  These 
things  do  get  around  in  most  astonishing  ways. 

Then  another  complication  arose :  Hayne,  too,  was  mixing  matters. 
The  major  commanding  the  battalion,  a  man  in  no  wise  connected  with 
his  misfortunes,  had  gone  to  him  and  urged,  with  the  doctor's  full  con- 
sent, that  he  should  be  moved  over  into  and  become  an  inmate  of  his 
household  in  garrison.  He  had  a  big,  roomy  house.  His  wife  earnestly 
added  her  entreaties  to  the  major's,  but  all  to  no  purpose :  Mr.  Hayne 
firmly  declined.  He  thanked  the  major;  he  rose  and  bent  over  the 
lady's  hand  and  thanked  her  with  a  voice  that  was  full  of  gentleness 
and  gratitude ;  but  he  said  that  he  had  learned  to  live  in  solitude. 
Sam  was  accustomed  to  all  his  ways,  and  he  had  every  comfort  he  needed. 
His  wants  were  few  and  simple.  She  would  not  be  content,  and  urged 
him  further.  He  loved  reading :  surely  he  would  miss  his  books  and 
would  need  some  one  to  read  aloud  to  him,  and  there  were  so  many 
ladies  in  the  garrison  who  would  be  glad  to  meet  at  her  house  and 
read  to  him  by  turns.  He  loved  music,  she  heard,  and  there  was  her 
piano,  and  she  knew  several  who  would  be  delighted  to  come  and  play 
for  him  by  the  hour.  He  shook  his  head,  and  the  bandages  hid  the 
tears  that  came  to  his  smarting  eyes.  He  had  made  arrangements  to 
be  read  aloud  to,  he  said ;  and  as  for  music,  that  must  wait  awhile. 
The  kind  woman  retired  dismayed, — she  could  not  understand  such 
obduracy, — and  her  husband  felt  rebuffed.  Stannard  of  the  cavalry, 
too,  came  in  with  his  gentle  wife.  She  was  loved  throughout  the  regi- 
ment for  her  kindliness  and  grace  of  mind,  as  well  as  for  her  devo- 
tion to  the  sick  and  suffering  in  the  old  days  of  the  Indian  wars,  and 
Stannard  had  made  a  similar  proffer  and  been  similarly  refused,  and 
he  had  gone  away  indignant.  He  thought  Mr.  Hayne  too  bumptious 
to  live ;  but  he  bore  no  malice,  and  his  wrath  was  soon  over.  Many 
of  the  cavalry  officers  called  in  person  and  tendered  their  services,  and 
were  very  civilly  received,  but  all  offers  were  positively  declined.  Just 
what  the  infantry  officers  should  do  was  a  momentous  question.  That 
they  could  no  longer  hold  aloof  was  a  matter  that  was  quickly  settled, 
and  three  of  their  number  went  through  the  chill  gloaming  of  the 
wintry  eve  and  sent  in  their  cards  by  Sam,  who  ushered  them  intc  the 


THE  DESERTER.  66 

cheerless  front  room,  while  one  of  their  number  followed  to  the  door- 
way which  led  to  the  room  in  rear,  in  which,  still  confined  to  his  bed  by 
the  doctor's  advice,  the  injured  officer  was  lying.  It  was  Mr.  Ross  who 
went  to  the  door  and  cleared  his  throat  and  stood  in  the  presence  of  the 
man  to  whom,  more  than  five  years  before,  he  had  refused  his  hand. 
The  others  listened  anxiously : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  this  is  Ross.  I  come  with  Foster  and  Graham  to  say 
how  deeply  we  regret  your  injuries,  and  to  tender  our  sympathy  and  our 
services." 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  a  moment.  Foster  and  Graham  stood 
with  hearts  that  beat  unaccountably  hard,  looking  at  each  other  in 
perplexity.  Would  he  never  reply  ? 

The  answer  came  at  last, — a  question  : 

"  To  what  injuries  do  you  allude,  Mr.  Ross?" 

Even  in  the  twilight  they  could  see  the  sudden  flush  of  the  Scotch- 
man's cheek.  He  was  a  blunt  fellow,  but,  as  the  senior,  had  been 
chosen  spokesman  for  the  three.  The  abrupt  question  staggered  him. 
It  was  a  second  or  two  before  he  could  collect  himself. 

"  I  mean  the  injuries  at  the  fire,"  he  replied. 

This  time,  no  answer  whatever.  It  was  growing  too  painful. 
Ross  looked  in  bewilderment  at  the  bandaged  face,  and  again  broke  the 
Bilence : 

"  We  hope  you  won't  deny  us  the  right  to  be  of  service,  Mr.  Hayne, 
If  there  is  anything  we  can  do  that  you  need,  or  would  like "  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"  You  have  nothing  further  to  say  ?"  asked  the  calm  voice  from 
the  pillow. 

"  I — don't  know  what  else  we  can  say,"  faltered  Ross,  after  an  in- 
stant's pause. 

The  answer  came,  firm  and  prompt,  but  icily  cool : 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  that  you  can  do." 

And  the  three  took  their  departure,  sore  at  heart. 

There  were  others  of  the  infantry  who  had  purposed  going  to  see 
Hayne  that  evening,  but  the  story  of  Ross's  experience  put  an  end  to  it 
all.  It  was  plain  that  even  now  Mr.  Hayne  made  the  condition  of  the 
faintest  advance  from  his  regimental  comrades  a  full  confession  of  error. 
He  would  have  no  less. 

That  evening  the  colonel  sat  by  his  bedside  and  had  an  earnest  talk, 
lie  ventured  to  expostulate  with  the  invalid  on  his  refusal  to  go  to  the 

6» 


66  THE  DESERTER. 

major's  or  to  Stannard's.  He  could  have  so  many  comforts  and  deli- 
cacies there  that  would  be  impossible  here.  He  did  not  refer  to  edibles 
and  drinkables  alone,  he  said,  with  a  smile ;  but  Hayne's  patient  face 
gave  no  sign  of  relenting.  He  heard  the  colonel  through,  and  then 
said,  slowly  and  firmly, — 

"  I  have  not  acted  hastily,  sir :  I  appreciate  their  kindness,  and  am 
not  ungrateful.  Five  years  ago  my  whole  life  was  changed.  From 
that  time  to  this  I  have  done  without  a  host  of  things  that  used  to  be 
indispensable,  and  have  abjured  them  one  and  all  for  a  single  luxury 
that  I  cannot  live  without, — the  luxury  of  utter  independence, — the 
joy  of  knowing  that  I  owe  no  man  anything, — the  blessing  of  being 
beholden  to  no  one  on  earth  for  a  single  service  I  cannot  pay  for.  It 
is  the  one  luxury  left  me." 

VII. 

It  was  a  clear  winter's  evening,  sharply  cold,  about  a  week  after  the 
fire,  when,  as  Mrs.  Rayner  came  down  the  stairway  equipped  for  a 
walk,  and  was  passing  the  parlor  door  without  stopping,  Miss  Travers 
caught  sight  of  and  called  to  her, — 

"  Are  you  going  walking,  Kate  ?  Do  wait  a  moment,  and  I'll  go 
with  you." 

Any  one  in  the  hall  could  have  shared  the  author's  privilege  and 
geen  the  expression  of  annoyance  and  confusion  that  appeared  on  Mrs. 
Rayner's  face : 

"  I  thought  you  were  out .    Did  not  Mr.  Graham  take  you  walking  ?" 

"  He  did ;  but  we  wandered  into  Mrs.  Waldron's,  and  she  and 
the  major  begged  us  to  stay,  and  we  had  some  music,  and  then  the  first 
call  sounded  for  retreat,  and  Mr.  Graham  had  to  go,  so  he  brought  me 
home.  I've  had  no  walk,  and  need  exercise." 

"  But  I  don't  like  you  to  be  out  after  sunset.     That  cough  of 

"  Disappeared  the  day  after  I  got  here,  Kate,  and  there  hasn't  been 
a  vestige  of  it  since.  This  high,  dry  climate  put  an  end  to  it.  No, 
I'll  be  ready  in  one  minute  more.  Do  wait." 

Mrs.  Rayner's  hand  was  turning  the  knob  while  her  sister  wag 
hurrying  to  the  front  door  and  drawing  on  her  heavy  jacket  as  she  did 
BO.  The  former  faced  her  impatiently : 

"I  don't  think  you  are  at  all  courteous  to  your  visitors.     You 


THE  DESERTER.  67 

Know  just  as  well  as  I  do  that  Mr.  Foster  or  Mr.  Royce  or  some  other 
of  those  young  officers  are  sure  to  be  in  just  at  this  hour.  You  really 
are  very  thoughtless,  Nellie." 

Miss  Travers  stopped  short  in  her  preparations. 

"  Kate  Rayner,"  she  began,  impressively,  "  it  was  only  night  before 
last  that  you  rebuked  me  for  sitting  here  with  Mr.  Blake  at  this  very 
hour,  and  asked  me  how  I  supposed  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  would  like  it. 
Now  you " 

"  Fudge  !  I  cannot  stay  and  listen  to  such  talk.  If  you  must  go, 
wait  a  few  minutes  until  I  get  back.  I — I  want  to  make  a  short  call. 
Then  I'll  take  you." 

"  So  do  I  want  to  make  a  short  call, — over  at  the  doctor's  j  and 
you  are  going  right  to  the  hospital,  are  you  not  ?" 

"  How  do  you  know  I  am  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  reddening. 

"  You  do  go  there  every  evening,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  I  don't.     Who  told  you  I  did  ?" 

"Several  people  mentioned  your  kindness  and  attention  to  the 
Clancys,  Kate.  I  have  heard  it  from  many  sources." 

"  I  wish  people  would  mind  their  own  affairs,"  wailed  Mrs.  Ray- 
ner, peevishly. 

"  So  do  I,  Kate ;  but  they  never  have,  and  never  will,  especially 
with  an  engaged  girl.  I  have  more  to  complain  of  than  you,  but  it 
doesn't  make  me  forlorn,  whereas  you  look  fearfully  worried  about 
nothing." 

"  Who  says  I'm  worried  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  with  sudden  vehe- 
mence. 

"  You  look  worried,  Kate,  and  haven't  been  at  all  like  yourself  for 
several  days.  Now,  why  shouldn't  I  go  to  the  hospital  with  you? 
WThy  do  you  try  to  hide  your  going  from  me  ?  Don't  you  know  that 
I  must  have  heard  the  strange  stories  that  are  flitting  about  the  garrison  ? 
Haven't  I  asked  you  to  set  me  right  if  I  have  been  told  a  wrong  one  ? 
Kate,  you  are  fretting  yourself  to  death  about  something,  and  the  cap- 
tain looks  worried  and  ill.  I  cannot  but  think  it  has  some  connection 
with  the  case  of  Mr.  Hayne.  Why  should  the  Clancys " 

"  You  have  no  right  to  think  any  such  thing,"  answered  her  sister, 
angrily.  "  We  have  suffered  too  much  at  his  hands  or  on  his  account 
already,  and  I  never  want  to  hear  such  words  from  your  lips.  It 
would  outrage  Captain  Rayner  to  hear  that  my  sister,  to  whom  he  has 


68  THE  DESERTER. 

given  a  home  and  a  welcome,  was  linking  herself  with  those  who  sid« 
with  that— that  thief." 

"  Kate !  Oh,  how  can  you  use  such  words  ?  How  dare  you  speak 
so  of  an  officer?  You  would  not  tell  me  what  he  was  accused  of;  but 
I  tell  you  that  if  it  be  theft  I  don't  believe  it, — and  no  one  else " 

There  was  a  sudden  footfall  on  the  porch  without,  and  a  quick, 
sharp,  imperative  knock  at  the  door.  Mrs.  Rayner  fled  back  along  the 
hall  towards  the  dining-room.  Miss  Travers,  hesitating  but  a  second, 
opened  the  door. 

It  was  the  soldier  telegraph-operator,  with  a  despatch-envelope  in  his 
hand: 

"  It  is  for  Mrs.  Rayner,  miss,  and  an  answer  is  expected.  Shall  I 
wait?" 

Mrs.  Rayner  came  hastily  forward  from  her  place  of  refuge  within 
the  dining-room,  took  the  envelope  without  a  word,  and  passed  into 
the  parlor,  where,  standing  beneath  the  lamp,  she  tore  it  open,  glanced 
anxiously  at  its  contents,  then  threw  it  with  an  exclamation  of  peevish 
indignation  upon  the  table : 

"  You'll  have  to  answer  for  yourself,  Nellie.     I  cannot  straighten 

¥)ur  affairs  and  mine  too."  And  with  that  she  was  going  ;  but  Miss 
ravers  called  her  back. 

The  message  simply  read,  "  No  letter  in  four  days.  Is  anything 
wrong  ?  Answer  paid,"  and  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Rayner  and  signed 
S.  V.  A. 

"  I  think  you  have  been  extremely  neglectful,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner, 
who  had  turned  and  now  stood  watching  the  rising  color  and  impa- 
tiently tapping  foot  of  her  younger  sister.  Miss  Travers  bit  her  lips 
and  compressed  them  hard.  There  was  an  evident  struggle  in  her 
mind  between  a  desire  to  make  an  impulsive  and  sweeping  reply  and 
an  effort  to  control  herself. 

"  Will  you  answer  a  quiet  question  or  two  ?"  she  finally  asked. 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  I  will,"  was  the  sisterly  rejoinder. 

"  How  long  does  it  take  a  letter  to  go  from  here  to  New  York  ?" 

"  Five  or  six  days,  I  suppose." 

Miss  Travers  stepped  to  the  door,  briefly  told  the  soldier  there  was 
no  answer,  thanked  him  for  waiting,  and  returned. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  reply  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  in  amaze. 

"  I  am  not ;  and  I  inferred  you  did  not  intend  to.  Now  another 
question.  How  many  days  have  we  been  here  ?" 


THE  DESERTER.  69 

"  Eight  or  nine, — nine,  it  is." 

"  You  saw  me  post  a  letter  to  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  as  we  left  the 
Missouri,  did  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes.     At  least  I  suppose  so." 

"  I  wrote  again  as  soon  as  we  got  settled  here,  three  days  after  that, 
did  I  not?" 

"  You  said  you  did,"  replied  Mrs.  Rayner,  ungraciously. 

"  And  you,  Kate,  when  you  are  yourself  have  been  prompt  to  declare 
that  I  say  what  I  mean.  Very  probably  it  may  have  been  four  days 
from  the  time  that  letter  from  the  transfer  reached  Wall  Street  to  the 
time  the  next  one  could  get  to  him  from  here,  even  had  I  written  the 
night  we  arrived.  Possibly  you  forget  that  you  forbade  my  doing  so, 
and  sent  me  to  bed  early.  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  has  simply  failed  to  re- 
member that  I  had  gone  several  hundred  miles  farther  west ;  and  even 
had  I  written  on  the  train  twice  a  day,  the  letters  would  not  have 
reached  him  uninterruptedly.  By  this  time  he  is  beginning  to  get 
them  fast  enough.  And  as  for  you,  Kate,  you  are  quite  as  unjust  as 
he.  It  augurs  badly  for  my  future  peace ;  and — I  am  learning  two 
lessons  here,  Kate." 

"  What  two,  pray  ?" 

"  That  he  can  be  foolishly  unreliable  in  estimating  a  woman." 

"And  the  other?" 

"  That  you  may  be  persistently  unreliable  in  your  judgment  of  a 
man." 

Verily,  for  a  young  woman  with  a  sweet,  girlish  face,  whom  we 
saw  but  a  week  agone  twitching  a  kitten's  ears  and  saying  little  or 
nothing,  Miss  Travers  was  displaying  unexpected  fighting  qualities. 
For  a  moment,  Mrs.  Rayner  glared  at  her  in  tremulous  indignation 
and  dismay. 

"  You — you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself !"  was  her  eventual 
outbreak. 

But  to  this  there  was  no  reply.  Miss  Travers  moved  quietly 
to  the  door-way,  turned  and  looked  her  angry  sister  in  the  eye,  and 
said, — 

"  I  shall  give  up  the  walk,  and  will  go  to  my  room.  Excuse  me  to 
any  visitors  this  evening." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  write  to  him  now,  when  you  are  angry,  I 
hope?" 

"  T  shall  not  write  to  him  until  to-morrow,  but  when  I  do  I  shall 


70  THE  DESERTER. 

tell  him  this,  Kate  :  that  if  he  desire  my  confidence  he  will  address  his 
complaints  and  inquiries  to  me.  If  I  am  old  enough  to  be  engaged  to 
him,  in  your  opinion,  I  am  equally  old  enough  to  attend  to  such  details 
as  these,  in  my  own." 

Mrs.  Rayner  stood  one  moment  as  though  astounded ;  then  she  flew 
to  the  door  and  relieved  her  surcharged  bosom  as  follows,  "  Well,  I 
pity  the  man  you  marry,  whether  you  are  lucky  enough  to  keep  this 
one  or  not !"  and  flounced  indignantly  out  of  the  house. 

When  Captain  Rayner  came  in,  half  an  hour  afterwards,  the 
parlor  was  deserted.  He  was  looking  worn  and  dispirited.  Find- 
ing no  one  on  the  ground-floor,  he  went  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and 
called,— 

"Kate." 

A  door  opened  above :  "  Kate  has  gone  out,  captain." 

"  Do  you  know  where,  Nellie  ?" 

"  Over  to  the  hospital,  I  think ;  though  I  cannot  say." 

She  heard  him  sigh  deeply,  move  irresolutely  about  the  hall  for  a 
moment,  then  turn  and  go  out. 

At  his  gate  he  found  two  figures  dimly  visible  in  the  gathering 
darkness:  they  had  stopped  on  hearing  his  footstep.  One  was  an 
officer  in  uniform,  wrapped  in  heavy  overcoat,  with  a  fur  cap,  and  a 
bandage  over  his  eyes.  The  other  was  a  Chinese  servant,  and  it  was 
the  latter  who  asked, — 

"ThisMajeWaldlon's?" 

"No,"  said  he,  hastily.  "Major  Waldron's  is  the  third  dooi 
beyond." 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  officer  quickly  started,  but  spoke  in 
low,  measured  tone :  "  Straight  ahead,  Sam."  And  the  Chinaman  led 
him  on. 

Rayner  stood  a  moment  watching  them,  bitter  thoughts  coursing 
through  his  mind.  Mr.  Hayne  was  evidently  sufficiently  recovered  to 
be  up  and  out  for  air,  and  now  he  was  being  invited  again.  This  time 
it  was  his  old  comrade  Waldron  who  honored  him.  Probably  it  was 
another  dinner.  Little  by  little,  at  this  rate,  the  time  would  soon  come 
when  Mr.  Hayne  would  be  asked  everywhere  and  he  and  his  corre- 
spondingly dropped.  He  turned  miserably  away,  and  went  back  to 
the  billiard-rooms  at  the  store.  When  Mrs.  Rayner  rang  her  bell  for 
tea  that  evening  he  had  not  reappeared,  and  she  sent  a  messenger  for 
him. 


THE  DESERTER,  71 

It  was  a  brilliant  moonlit  evening.  A  strong  prairie  gale  had 
begun  to  blow  from  the  northwest,  and  was  banging  shutters  and 
whirling  pebbles  at  a  furious  rate.  At  the  sound  of  the  trumpets  wail- 
ing tattoo  a  brace  of  young  officers  calling  on  the  ladies  took  their 
leave.  The  captain  had  retired  to  his  den,  or  study,  where  he  shut  him- 
self up  a  good  deal  of  late,  and  thither  Mrs.  Rayner  followed  him  and 
closed  the  door  after  her.  Throwing  a  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  Miss 
Travers  stepped  out  on  the  piazza  and  gazed  in  delight  upon  the  moon- 
lit panorama, — the  snow-covered  summits  to  the  south  and  west,  the 
rolling  expanse  of  upland  prairie  between,  the  rough  outlines  of  the 
foot-hills  softened  in  the  silvery  light,  the  dark  shadows  of  the  barracks 
across  the  parade,  the  twinkling  lights  of  the  sergeants  as  they  took 
their  stations,  the  soldierly  forms  of  the  officers  hastening  to  their  com- 
panies far  across  the  frozen  level.  Suddenly  she  became  aware  of  two 
forms  coming  down  the  walk.  They  issued  from  Major  Waldron's 
quarters,  and  the  door  closed  behind  them.  One  was  a  young  officer ; 
the  other,  she  speedily  made  out,  a  Chinese  servant,  who  was  guiding 
his  master.  She  knew  the  pair  in  an  instant,  and  her  first  impulse  was 
to  retire.  Then  she  reflected  that  he  could  not  see,  and  she  wanted  to 
look  :  so  she  stayed.  They  had  almost  reached  her  gate,  when  a  wild 
blast  whirled  the  officer's  cape  about  his  ears  and  sent  some  sheets  of 
music  flying  across  the  road.  Leaving  his  master  at  the  fence,  the 
Chinaman  sped  in  pursuit ;  and  the  next  thing  she  noted  was  that  Mr. 
Hayne's  fur  cap  was  blown  from  his  head  and  that  he  was  groping  for 
it  helplessly. 

There  was  no  one  to  call,  no  one  to  assist.  She  hesitated  one 
minute,  looked  anxiously  around,  then  sprang  to  the  gate,  picked  up 
the  cap,  pulled  it  well  down  over  the  bandaged  eyes,  seized  the  young' 
officer  firmly  by  the  arm,  drew  him  within  the  gate,  and  led  him  to  the 
shelter  of  the  piazza.  Once  out  of  the  fury  of  the  gale,  she  could  hear 
his  question,  "  Did  you  get  it  all,  Sam  ?" 

"  Not  yet,"  she  answered.  Oh,  how  she  longed  for  a  deep  contralto ! 
"  He  is  coming.  He  will  be  here  in  a  moment." 

"  I  am  so  sorry  to  have  been  a  trouble  to  you,"  he  began  again, 
vaguely. 

"  You  are  no  trouble  to  me.  I'm  glad  I  was  where  I  happened  to 
see  you  and  could  help." 

He  spoke  no  more  for  a  minute.  She  stood  gazing  at  all  that  was 
visible  of  the  pale  face  below  the  darkened  eyes.  It  was  so  clear-cut, 


72  THE  DESERTER. 

BO  refined  in  feature,  and  the  lips  under  the  sweeping  blonde  moustache, 
though  set  and  compressed,  were  delicate  and  pink.  He  turned  his 
head  eagerly  towards  the  parade ;  but  Sam  was  still  far  away.  The 
music  had  scattered,  and  was  leading  him  a  lively  dance. 

"  Isn't  my  servant  coming  ?"  he  asked,  constrainedly.  "  I  fear  I'm 
keeping  you.  Please  do  not  wait.  He  will  find  me  here.  You  were 
going  somewhere." 

"  No, — unless  it  was  here."  She  was  trembling  now.  "  Please  be 
patient,  Mr. — Mr.  Hayne.  Sam  may  be  a  minute  or  two  yet,  and  here 
you  are  out  of  the  wind." 

Again  she  looked  in  his  face.  He  was  listening  eagerly  to  her 
words,  as  though  striving  to  "  place"  her  voice.  Could  she  be  mis- 
taken ?  Was  he,  too,  not  trembling  ?  Beyond  all  doubt  his  lips  were 
quivering  now. 

"  May  I  not  know  who  it  is  that  led  me  here  ?"  he  asked,  gently. 

She  hesitated,  hardly  knowing  how  to  tell  him. 

"Try  and  guess,"  she  laughed,  nervously.  "But  you  couldn't. 
You  do  not  know  my  name.  It  is  my  good  fortune,  Mr.  Hayne.  You 
— you  saved  my  kitten  ;  I — your  cap." 

There  was  no  mistaking  his  start.  Beyond  doubt  he  had  winced 
as  though  stung,  and  was  now  striving  to  grope  his  way  to  the  railing. 
She  divined  his  purpose  in  an  instant,  and  her  slender  hand  was  laid 
pleadingly  yet  firmly  on  his  arm. 

"Mr.  Hayne,  don't  go.  Don't  think  of  going.  Stay  here  until 
Sam  comes.  He's  coming  now,"  she  faltered. 

"  Is  this  Captain  Rayner's  house  ?"  he  asked,  hoarse  and  low. 

"  No  matter  whose  it  is  !  I  welcome  you  here.  You  shall  not  go," 
she  cried,  impulsively,  and  both  little  hands  were  tugging  at  his  arm. 
He  had  found  the  railing,  and  was  pulling  himself  towards  the  gate, 
but  her  words,  her  clinging  hands,  were  too  persuasive. 

"  I  cannot  realize  this,"  he  said.     "  I  do  not  understand " 

"  Do  not  try  to  understand  it,  Mr.  Hayne.  If  I  am  only  a  girl,  I 
have  a  right  to  think  for  myself.  My  father  was  a  soldier, — I  am 
Nellie  Travers, — and  if  he  were  alive  I  know  well  he  would  have  had 
me  do  just  what  I  have  done  this  night.  Now  won't  you  stay  ?" 

And  light  was  beaming  in  through  his  darkened  eyes  and  glad- 
dening his  soul  with  a  rapture  he  had  not  known  for  years.  One  in- 
stant he  seized  and  clasped  her  hand.  "  May  God  bless  you  !"  was  all 
he  whispered,  but  so  softly  that  even  she  did  not  hear  him.  He  bowed 
low  over  the  slender  white  hand,  and  stayed. 


THE  DESERTER.  73 


VIII. 

March  had  come, — the  month  of  gale  and  bluster,  sleet  and  storm, 
in  almost  every  section  of  our  broad  domain, — and  March  at  Warrener 
was  to  the  full  as  blustering  and  conscienceless  as  in  New  England. 
There  were  a  few  days  of  sunshine  during  the  first  week ;  then  came 
a  fortnight  of  raging  snow-storms.  The  cavalry  troops,  officers  and 
men,  went  about  their  stable-duties  as  usual,  but,  except  for  roll-call  on 
the  porch  of  the  barracks  and  for  guard-mounting  over  at  the  guard- 
house, all  military  exercise  seemed  suspended.  This  meant  livelier 
times  for  the  ladies,  however,  as  the  officers  were  enabled  to  devote  just 
so  many  more  hours  a  day  to  their  entertainment.  There  were  two  or 
three  hops  a  week  over  in  the  big  assembly-room,  and  there  was  some 
talk  of  getting  up  a  german  in  honor  of  Miss  Travers,  but  the  strained 
relations  existing  between  Mrs.  Rayner  and  the  ladies  of  other  families 
at  the  post  made  the  matter  difficult  of  accomplishment.  There  were 
bright  little  luncheon-,  dinner-,  and  tea-parties,  where  the  young  officers 
and  the  younger  ladies  met  every  day ;  and,  besides  all  this,  despite  the 
fact  that  Mrs.  Rayner  had  at  first  shown  a  fixed  determination  to  dis- 
cuss the  rights  and  wrongs  of  "  the  Hayne  aifair,"  as  it  was  now  be 
ginning  to  be  termed,  with  all  comers  who  belonged  to  the  Riflers,  it  had 
grown  to  be  a  very  general  thing  for  the  youngsters  to  drop  in  at  her 
house  at  all  hours  of  the  day ;  but  that  was  because  there  were  attrac- 
tions there  which  outweighed  her  combativeness.  Then  Rayner  him- 
self overheard  some  comments  on  the  mistake  she  was  making,  and  for- 
l>ade  her  discussing  the  subject  with  the  officers  even  of  her  own  regiment. 
She  was  indignant,  and  demanded  a  reason.  He  would  name  no  names, 
but  told  her  that  he  had  heard  enough  to  convince  him  she  was  doing 
him  more  harm  than  good,  and,  if  anything,  contributing  to  the  turn 
of  the  tide  in  Hayne's  favor.  Then  she  felt  outraged  and  utterly  mis- 
judged. It  was  a  critical  time  for  her,  and  if  deprived  of  the  use 
of  her  main  weapon  of  offence  and  defence  the  battle  was  sure  to  go 
amiss.  Sorely  against  her  inclination,  she  obeyed  her  lord,  for,  as  has 
been  said,  she  was  a  loyal  wife,  and  for  the  time  being  the  baby  became 
Ihe  recipient  of  her  undivided  attention. 

True  to  her  declaration,  she  behaved  so  coldly  and  with  such  marked 
distance  of  manner  to  the  colonel  and  his  wife  when  they  met  in  society 
D  7 


74  THE  DESERTER. 

immediately  after  the  dinner  that  the  colonel  quietly  told  his  wife  she 
need  not  give  either  dinner  or  reception  in  honor  of  Mrs.  Rayner's  re- 
turn. He  would  like  to  have  her  do  something  to  welcome  Miss 
Travers,  for  he  thought  the  girl  had  much  of  her  father  in  her.  He 
knew  him  well  in  the  old  days  before  and  during  the  war,  and  liked 
him.  He  liked  her  looks  and  her  sweet,  unaffected,  cheery  manner. 
He  liked  the  contrast  between  her  and  her  sister ;  for  Miss  Travers  had 
listened  in  silence  to  her  sister's  exposition  of  what  her  manner  should 
be  to  the  colonel  and  his  wife,  and  when  they  met  she  was  bright  and 
winsome.  The  colonel  stood  and  talked  with  her  about  her  father, 
whom  she  could  remember  only  vaguely,  but  of  whom  she  never  tired 
of  hearing ;  and  that  night  Mrs.  Rayner  rebuked  her  severely  for  her 
disloyalty  to  the  captain,  who  had  given  her  a  home. 

But  when  Mrs.  Rayner  heard  that  Major  and  Mrs.  Waldron  had 
invited  Mr.  Hayne  to  dine  with  them,  and  had  invited  to  meet  him  two 
of  the  cavalry  officers  and  their  wives,  she  was  incensed  beyond  meas- 
ure. She  and  Mrs.  Waldron  had  a  brief  talk,  as  a  result  of  which 
Mrs.  Rayner  refused  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Waldron  at  the  evening  party 
given  by  Mrs.  Stannard  in  honor  of  her  and  her  sister.  It  was  this 
that  brought  on  the  crisis.  Whatever  was  said  between  the  men  was 
not  told.  Major  Waldron  and  Captain  Rayner  had  a  long  consulta- 
tion, and  they  took  no  one  into  their  confidence;  but  Mrs.  Rayner 
obeyed  her  husband,  went  to  Mrs.  Waldron  and  apologized  for  her 
rudeness,  and  then  went  with  her  sister  and  returned  the  call  of  the 
colonel's  wife ;  but  she  chose  a  bright  afternoon,  when  she  knew  well 
the  lady  was  not  at  home. 

She  retired  from  the  contest,  apparently,  as  has  been  said,  and  took 
much  Christian  consolation  to  herself  from  the  fact  that  at  so  great  a 
sacrifice  she  was  obeying  her  husband  and  doing  the  duty  she  owed  to 
him.  In  very  truth,  however,  the  contest  was  withdrawn  from  her  by 
the  fact  that  for  a  week  or  more  after  his  evening  at  the  Waldrons'  Mr. 
Hayne  did  not  reappear  in  garrison,  and  she  had  no  cause  to  talk  about 
him.  Officers  visiting  the  house  avoided  mention  of  his  name.  Ladies 
of  the  cavalry  regiment  calling  upon  Mrs.  Rayner  and  Miss  Travers 
occasionally  spoke  of  him  and  his  devotion  to  the  men  and  his  bravery 
at  the  fire,  but  rather  as  though  they  meant  in  a  general  way  to  com- 
pliment the  Riflers,  not  Mr.  Hayne ;  and  so  she  heard  little  of  the  man 
whose  existence  was  so  sore  a  trial  to  her.  What  she  would  have  said, 
what  she  would  have  thought,  had  she  known  of  the  meeting  between 


THE  DESERTER  75 

him  and  her  guarded  Nellie,  is  beyond  us  to  describe ;  but  she  never 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing,  and  Miss  Travers  never  dreamed  of  telling 
her, — for  the  present,  at  least.  Fortunately — or  unfortunately — for  the 
latter,  it  was  not  so  much  of  her  relations  with  Mr.  Hayne  as  of  her 
relations  with  half  a  dozen  young  bachelors  that  Mrs.  Rayner  speedily 
felt  herself  compelled  to  complain.  It  was  a  blessed  relief  to  the  elder 
sister.  Her  surcharged  spirit  was  in  sore  need  of  an  escape- valve.  She 
was  ready  to  boil  over  in  the  mental  ebullition  consequent  upon  Mr. 
Hayne's  reception  at  the  post,  and  with  all  the  pent-up  irritability  which 
that  episode  had  generated  she  could  not  have  contained  herself  and 
slept.  But  here  Miss  Travers  came  to  her  relief.  Her  beauty,  her 
winsome  ways,  her  unqualified  delight  in  everything  that  was  soldierly, 
speedily  rendered  her  vastly  attractive  to  all  the  young  officers  in  garri- 
son. Graham  and  Foster  of  the  infantry,  Merton,  Webster,  and  Royce 
of  the  cavalry,  haunted  the  house  at  all  manner  of  hours,  and  the 
captain  bade  them  welcome  and  urged  them  to  come  oftener  and  stay 
later,  and  told  Mrs.  Rayner  he  wanted  some  kind  of  a  supper  or  colla- 
tion every  night.  He  set  before  his  guests  a  good  deal  of  wine,  and 
drank  a  good  deal  more  himself  than  he  had  ever  been  known  to  do 
before,  and  they  were  keeping  very  late  hours  at  Rayner's,  for,  said  the 
captain,  "  I  don't  care  if  Nellie  is  engaged  :  she  shall  have  a  good  time 
while  she's  here  ;  and  if  the  boys  know  all  about  it, — goodness  knows 
you've  told  them  often  enough,  Kate, — and  they  don't  mind  it,  why, 
it's  nobody's  business, — here,  at  least." 

What  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  might  think  or  care  was  another  matter. 
Rayner  never  saw  him,  and  did  not  know  him.  He  rather  resented  it 
that  Van  Antwerp  had  never  written  to  him  and  asked  his  consent.  As 
Mrs.  Rayner's  husband  and  Nellie's  brother-in-law,  it  seemed  to  him  he 
stood  in  loco  parentis  ;  but  Mrs.  Rayner  managed  the  whole  thing  her- 
self, and  he  was  not  even  consulted.  If  anything,  he  rather  enjoyed  the 
contemplation  of  Van  Antwerp's  fidgety  frame  of  mind  as  described  to 
him  by  Mrs.  Rayner  about  the  time  it  became  apparent  to  her  that  Nellie 
was  enjoying  the  attentions  of  which  she  was  so  general  an  object,  and 
that  the  captain  was  sitting  up  later  and  drinking  more  wine  than  was 
good  for  him.  She  was  aware  that  the  very  number  of  Nell's  admirers 
would  probably  prevent  her  becoming  entangled  with  any  one  of  them, 
but  she  needed  something  to  scold  about,  and  eagerly  pitched  upon  this. 
She  knew  well  that  she  could  not  comfort  her  husband  in  the  anxiety 
that  was  gnawing  at  his  heart-strings,  but  she  was  jealous  of  comfort 


76  THE  DESERTER. 

(hat  might  come  to  him  from  any  other  source,  and  the  Lethe  of  wine 
and  jolly  companionship  she  dreaded  most  of  all.  Long,  long  before, 
she  had  induced  him  to  promise  that  he  would  never  offer  the  young 
officers  spirits  in  his  house.  She  would  not  prohibit  wine  at  table,  she 
said ;  but  she  never  thought  of  there  coming  a  time  when  he  himself 
would  seek  consolation  in  the  glass  and  make  up  in  quantity  what  it 
lacked  in  alcoholic  strength.  He  was  impatient  of  all  reproof  now,  and 
would  listen  to  no  talk  ;  but  Nellie  was  years  her  junior, — more  years 
than  she  would  admit  except  at  such  times  as  these,  when  she  meant  to 
admonish ;  and  Nellie  had  to  take  it. 

Two  weeks  after  their  arrival  at  Warrener  the  burden  of  Mrs. 
Rayner's  song — morn,  noon,  and  night — was,  "  What  would  Mr.  Van 
Antwerp  say  if  he  could  but  see  this  or  hear  that?" 

Can  any  reader  recall  an  instance  where  the  cause  of  an  absent  lover 
was  benefited  by  the  ceaseless  warning  in  a  woman's  ear,  "  Remember, 
you're  engaged"  ?  The  hero  of  antiquity  who  caused  himself  to  be 
attended  by  a  shadowing  slave  whispering  ever  and  only,  "  Remember, 
thou  art  mortal,"  is  a  fine  figure  to  contemplate — at  this  remote  date. 
He,  we  are  told,  admitted  the  need,  submitted  to  the  infliction.  But 
lives  there  a  woman  who  will  admit  that  she  needs  any  instruction  as 
to  what  her  conduct  should  be  when  the  lord  of  her  heart  is  away? 
Lives  there  a  woman  who,  submitting,  because  she  cannot  escape,  to 
the  constant  reminder,  "  Thou  art  engaged,"  will  not  resent  it  in  her  heart 
of  hearts  and  possibly  revenge  herself  on  the  one  alone  whom  she  holds 
at  her  mercy  ?  Left  to  herself, — to  her  generosity,  her  conscience,  her 
innate  tenderness, — the  cause  of  the  absent  one  will  plead  for  itself, 
and,  if  it  have  even  faint  foundation,  hold  its  own.  "  With  the  best 
intentions  in  the  world,"  many  an  excellent  cause  has  been  ruined  by 
the  injudicious  urgings  of  a  mother ;  but  to  talk  an  engaged  girl  into 
mutiny,  rely  on  the  infallibility  of  two  women, — a  married  sister  or  a 
maiden  aunt. 

Just  what  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  would  have  said  could  he  have  seen 
the  situation  at  Warrener  is  perhaps  impossible  to  predict.  Just  what 
he  did  say  without  seeing  was,  perhaps,  the  most  unwise  thing  he  could 
have  thought  of:  he  urged  Mrs.  Rayner  to  keep  reminding  Nellie  of 
her  promise.  His  had  not  been  a  life  of  unmixed  joy.  He  was  now 
nearly  thirty-five,  and  desperately  in  love  with  a  pretty  girl  who  had 
simply  bewitched  him  during  the  previous  summer.  It  was  not  easy 
to  approach  her  then,  he  found,  for  her  sister  kept  vigilant  guard ;  but, 


THE  DESERTER.  7t 

once  satisfied  of  his  high  connections,  his  wealth,  and  his  social  stand- 
ing, the  door  was  opened,  and  he  was  something  more  than  welcomed, 
said  the  gossips  at  the  Surf  House.  What  his  past  history  had  been, 
where  and  how  his  life  had  been  spent,  were  matters  of  less  consequence, 
apparently,  than  what  he  was  now.  He  had  been  wild  at  college,  as 
other  boys  had  been,  she  learned ;  he  had  tried  the  cattle-business  in 
the  West,  she  was  told ;  but  there  had  been  a  quarrel  with  his  father, 
a  reconciliation,  a  devoted  mother,  a  long  sojourn  abroad, — Heidelberg, 
— a  sudden  summons  to  return,  the  death  of  the  father,  and  then  the 
management  of  a  valuable  estate  fell  to  the  son.  There  were  other 
children,  brother  and  sisters,  three  in  all,  but  Steven  was  the  first-born 
and  the  mother's  glory.  She  was  with  him  at  the  sea-side,  and  the 
first  thing  that  moved  Nellie  Travers  to  like  him  was  his  devotion  to 
that  white-haired  woman  who  seemed  so  happy  in  his  care.  Between 
that  mother  and  Mrs.  Rayner  there  had  speedily  sprung  up  an  acquaint- 
ance. She  had  vastly  admired  Nellie,  and  during  the  first  fortnight  of 
their  visit  to  the  Surf  House  had  shown  her  many  attentions.  The  ill- 
ness of  a  daughter  called  her  away,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  announced  that 
she,  too,  was  going  elsewhere,  when  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  himself  re- 
turned, and  Mrs.  Rayner  decided  it  was  so  late  in  the  season  that  they 
had  better  remain  until  it  was  time  to  go  to  town.  In  October  they 
spent  a  fortnight  in  the  city,  staying  at  the  Westminster,  and  he  was 
assiduous  in  his  attentions,  taking  them  everywhere,  and  lavishing 
flowers  and  bonbons  upon  Nell.  Then  Mrs.  Van  Antwerp  invited 
them  to  visit  her  at  her  own  comfortable,  old-fashioned  house  down 
town,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  was  eager  to  accept,  but  Nellie  said  no;  she 
would  not  do  it :  she  could  not  accept  Mr.  Van  Antwerp ;  she  liked, 
admired,  and  was  attracted  by  him,  but  she  felt  that  love  him  she  did 
not.  He  was  devoted,  but  had  tact  and  patience,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  at 
last  yielded  to  her  demand  and  took  her  off  in  October  to  spend  somn 
time  in  the  interior  of  the  State  with  relations  of  their  mother,  and 
there,  frequently,  came  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  to  see  her  and  to  urge  hit* 
suit.  They  were  to  have  gone  to  Warrener  immediately  after  the 
holidays,  but  January  came  and  Nellie  had  not  surrendered.  An- 
other week  in  the  city,  a  long  talk  with  the  devoted  old  mother  whose 
heart  was  so  wrapped  up  in  her  son's  happiness  and  whose  arms 
seemed  yearning  to  enfold  the  lovely  girl,  and  Nellie  was  conquered. 
If  not  fully  convinced  of  her  love  for  Mr.  Van  Antwerp,  she  was 
more  than  half  in  love  with  his  mother.  Her  promise  was  given 


78  THE  DESERTER. 

and  then  she  seemed  eager  to  get  back  to  the  frontier  which  she  had 
known  and  loved  as  a  child.  "  I  want  to  see  the  mountains,  the 
snow-peaks,  the  great  rolling  prairies,  once  more,"  she  said ;  and  he 
had  to  consent.  Man  never  urged  more  importunately  than  he  thai 
the  wedding  should  come  off  that  very  winter ;  but  Nellie  once  more 
said  no ;  she  could  not  and  would  not  listen  to  an  earlier  date  than  the 
summer  to  come. 

No  one  on  earth  knew  with  what  sore  foreboding  and  misery  he  let 
her  go.  It  was  something  that  Mrs.  Rayner  could  not  help  remarking, 
— his  unconquerable  aversion  to  every  mention  of  the  army  and  of  his 
own  slight  experience  on  the  frontier.  He  would  not  talk  of  it  even 
with  Nellie,  who  was  an  enthusiast  and  had  spent  two  years  of  hei 
girlhood  almost  under  the  shadow  of  Laramie  Peak  and  loved  the  mere 
mention  of  the  Wyoming  streams  and  valleys.  In  her  husband's  name 
Mrs.  Rayner  had  urged  him  to  drop  his  business  early  in  the  spring 
and  come  to  them  for  a  visit.  He  declared  it  was  utterly  impossible. 
Every  moment  of  his  time  must  be  given  to  the  settling  of  estate  affairs, 
so  that  he  could  be  a  free  man  in  the  summer.  He  meant  to  take  his 
bride  abroad  immediately  and  spend  a  year  or  more  in  Europe.  These 
were  details  which  were  industriously  circulated  by  Mrs.  Rayner  and 
speedily  became  garrison  property.  It  seemed  to  the  men  that  in  bring- 
ing her  sister  there  engaged  she  had  violated  all  precedent  to  begin 
with,  and  in  this  instance,  at  least,  there  was  general  complaint.  Mr. 
Blake  said  it  reminded  him  of  his  early  boyhood,  when  they  used  to 
take  him  to  the  great  toy-stores  at  Christmas :  "  Look  all  you  like, 
long  for  it  as  much  as  you  please,  but  don't  touch."  Merton  and  Royce, 
of  the  cavalry,  said  it  was  simply  a  challenge  to  any  better  fellow  to 
cut  in  and  cut  out  the  Knickerbocker ;  and,  to  do  them  justice,  they  did 
their  best  to  carry  out  their  theory.  Both  they  and  their  comrades  of 
the  Riflers  were  assiduous  in  their  attentions  to  Miss  Travers,  and  other 
ladies,  less  favored,  made  acrimonious  comment  in  consequence.  A 
maiden  sister  of  one  of  the  veteran  captains  in  the  — th,  a  damsel 
whose  stern  asceticism  of  character  was  reflected  in  her  features  and 
grimly  illustrated  in  her  dress,  was  moved  to  censure  of  her  more  at- 
tractive neighbor.  "  If  I  had  given  my  heart  to  a  gentleman,"  said  she, 
and  her  manner  was  indicative  of  the  long  struggle  which  such  a  be- 
stowal would  cost  both  him  and  her,  "  nothing  on  earth  would  induce 
me  to  accept  attentions  from  any  one  else,  not  if  he  were  millions  of 
miles  away." 


THE  DESERTER.  79 

But  Nellie  Travers  was  "accepting  attentions"  with  laughing  grace 
and  enjoying  the  society  of  these  young  fellows  immensely.  The  house 
would  have  been  gloomy  without  her  and  "  the  boys,"  Rayner  was 
prompt  to  admit,  for  he  was  ill  at  ease  and  sorely  worried,  while  his 
inflammable  Kate  was  fuming  over  the  situation  of  her  husband's  affairs. 
Under  ordinaiy  circumstances  she  would  have  seen  very  little  to  object 
to  so  long  as  Nellie  showed  no  preference  for  any  one  of  her  admirers 
at  Warrener,  and  unless  peevish  or  perturbed  in  spirit  would  have  made 
little  allusion  to  it.  As  matters  stood,  however,  she  was  in  a  most 
querulous  and  excitable  mood  :  she  could  not  rail  at  the  real  cause  of 
her  misery,  and  so,  woman-like,  she  was  thankful  for  a  pretext  for  un- 
corking the  vials  of  her  wrath  on  somebody  or  something  else.  If  the 
young  matrons  in  garrison  who,  with  the  two  or  three  visiting  maidens, 
were  disposed  to  rebel  at  Miss  Nell's  apparent  absorption  of  all  the  avail- 
able cavaliers  at  the  post,  and  call  her  a  too  lucky  girl,  could  but  have 
heard  Mrs.  Rayner's  nightly  tirades  and  hourly  rebukes,  they  might  have 
realized  that  here,  as  elsewhere,  the  rose  had  its  stinging  thorns.  As 
for  Miss  Travers,  she  confounded  her  sister  by  taking  it  all  very  sub- 
missively and  attempting  no  defence.  Possibly  conscience  was  telling 
her  that  she  deserved  more  than  she  was  getting,  or  than  she  would  be 
likely  to  get  until  her  sister  heard  of  the  adventure  with  Mr.  Hayne. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Royce  one  evening  as  they  were  stamping 
off  the  snow  and  removing  their  heavy  wraps  in  Rayner's  hall-way 
after  a  series  of  garrison  calls,  "  Mrs.  Waldron  says  she  expects  you  to 
play  for  her  to-morrow  afternoon,  Miss  Travers.  Of  course  it  will  be 
my  luck  to  be  at  stables." 

"  You  hear  better  music  every  afternoon  than  I  can  give  you,  Mr. 
Royce." 

"  Where,  pray  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  turning  quickly  upon  them. 

Mr.  Royce  hesitated,  and — with  shame  be  it  said — allowed  Miss 
Travers  to  meet  the  question  : 

"  At  Mr.  Hayne's,  Kate." 

There  was  the  same  awkward  silence  that  always  followed  the  men- 
tion of  Hayne's  name.  Mrs.  Rayner  looked  annoyed.  It  was  evident 
that  she  wanted  more  information, — wanted  to  ask,  but  was  restrained. 
Royce  determined  to  be  outspoken. 

"  Several  of  us  have  got  quite  in  the  way  of  stopping  there  on  our 
way  from  afternoon  stables,"  he  said,  very  quietly.  "  Mr.  Huyne  has 


80  THE  DESERTER. 

his  piano  now,  and  has  nearly  recovered  the  full  use  of  his  eyes.  He 
plays  well." 

Mrs.  Rayner  turned  about  once  more,  and,  without  saying  so  much 
as  good-night,  went  heavily  up-stairs,  leaving  her  escort  to  share  with 
Mr.  Royce  such  welcome  as  the  captain  was  ready  to  accord  them.  If 
forbidden  to  talk  on  the  subject  nearest  her  heart,  she  would  not  speak 
at  all.  She  would  have  banged  her  door,  but  that  would  have  waked 
baby.  It  stung  her  to  the  quick  to  know  that  the  cavalry  officers 
were  daily  visitors  at  Mr.  Hayne's  quarters.  It  was  little  comfort  to 
know  that  the  infantry  officers  did  not  go,  for  she  and  they  both  knew 
that,  except  Major  Waldron,  no  one  of  their  number  was  welcome 
under  that  roof  unless  he  would  voluntarily  come  forward  and  say,  "  I 
believe  you  innocent."  She  felt  that  but  for  the  stand  made  by  Hayne 
himself  most  of  their  number  would  have  received  him  into  comrade- 
ship again  by  this  time,  and  she  could  hardly  sleep  that  night  from 
thinking  over  what  she  had  heard. 

But  could  she  have  seen  the  figure  that  was  slinking  in  the  snow  at 
the  rear  door  of  Hayne's  quarters  that  very  evening,  peering  into  the 
lighted  rooms,  and  at  last,  after  many  an  irresolute  turn,  knocking 
timidly  for  admission  and  then  hiding  behind  the  corner  of  the  shed 
until  Sam  came  and  poked  his  pig-tailed  head  out  into  the  wintry 
darkness  in  wondering  effort  to  find  the  visitor,  she  would  not  have 
slept  at  all. 

It  was  poor  Clancy,  once  more  mooning  about  the  garrison  and  up 
to  his  old  tricks.  Clancy  had  been  drinking ;  but  he  wanted  to  know, 
t(  could  he  spake  with  the  lieutenant  ?" 


IX. 

"  I  have  been  reading  over  your  letter  of  Thursday  last,  dear 
Steven,"  wrote  Miss  Travers,  "  and  there  is  much  that  I  feel  I  ought 
to  answer.  You  and  Kate  are  very  much  of  a  mind  about  the  '  tempta- 
tions' with  which  I  am  surrounded  ;  but  you  are  far  more  imaginative 
than  she  is,  and  far  more  courteous.  There  is  so  much  about  your 
letter  that  touches  me  deeply  that  I  want  to  be  frank  and  fair  in  my 
reply.  I  have  been  dancing  all  this  evening,  was  out  at  dinner  before 
that,  and  have  made  many  calls  this  afternoon ;  but,  tired  as  I  am,  my 


THE  DESERTER.  81 

letter  must  be  written,  for  to-morrow  will  be  but  the  repetition  of  to- 
day. Is  it  that  I  am  cold  and  utterly  heartless  that  I  can  sit  and  write 
so  calmly  in  reply  to  your  fervent  and  appealing  letter  ?  Ah,  Steven, 
it  is  what  may  be  said  of  me ;  but,  if  cold  and  heartless  to  you,  I  have 
certainly  given  no  man  at  this  garrison  the  faintest  reason  to  think  that 
he  has  inspired  any  greater  interest  in  him.  They  are  all  kind,  all  very 
attentive.  I  have  told  you  how  well  Mr.  Royce  dances  and  Mr.  Mer- 
ton  rides  and  Mr.  Foster  reads  and  talks.  They  entertain  me  vastly, 
and  I  do  like  it.  More  than  this,  Steven,  I  am  pleased  with  their  evi- 
dent admiration, — not  alone  pleased  and  proud  that  they  should  admire 
me  who  am  pledged  to  you, — not  that  alone,  I  frankly  confess,  but 
because  it  in  itself  is  pleasant.  It  pleases  me.  Very  possibly  it  is 
because  I  am  vain. 

"  And  yet,  though  my  hours  are  constantly  occupied,  though  they 
are  here  from  morning  till  night,  no  one  of  them  is  more  attentive  than 
another.  There  are  five  or  six  who  come  daily.  There  are  some  who 
do  not  come  at  all.  Am  I  a  wretch,  Steven  ?  There  are  two  or  three 
that  do  not  call  who  I  wish  would  call.  I  would  like  to  know  them. 

"  Yet  they  know — they  could  not  help  it,  with  Kate  here,  and  1 
never  forget — that  I  am  your  promised  wife.  Steven,  do  you  not 
sometimes  forget  the  conditions  of  that  promise?  Even  now,  again 
and  again  do  I  not  repeat  to  you  that  you  ought  to  release  me  and  free 
yourself?  Of  course  your  impulse  will  be  to  say  my  heart  is  changing, 
— that  I  have  seen  others  whom  I  like  better.  No,  I  have  seen  no  one 
I  like  as  well.  But  is  '  like'  what  you  deserve, — what  you  ask  ?  and 
is  it  not  all  I  have  ever  been  able  to  promise  you  ?  Steven,  bear  me 
witness,  for  Kate  is  bitterly  unjust  to  me  at  times,  I  told  you  again  and 
again  last  summer  and  fall  that  I  did  not  love  you  and  ought  not  to 
think  of  being  your  wife.  Yet,  poor,  homeless,  dependent  as  I  am, 
how  strong  was  the  temptation  to  say  yes  to  your  plea !  You  know 
that  t  did  not  and  would  not  until  time  and  again  your  sweet  mother, 
whom  I  do  love,  and  Kate,  who  had  been  a  mother  to  me,  both  declared 
that  that  should  make  no  difference  :  the  love  would  come :  the  happiest 
marriages  the  world  over  were  those  in  which  the  girl  respected  the  man 
of  her  choice:  love  would  come,  and  come  speedily,  when  once  she 
was  his  wife.  You  yourself  declared  you  could  wait  in  patience, — you 
would  woo  and  win  by  and  by.  Only  promise  to  be  your  wife  before 
returning  to  the  frontier,  and  you  would  be  content.  Steven,  are  yon 
content  ?  You  know  you  are  not ;  you  know  you  are  unhappy ;  and 
D* 


82  THE  DESERTER. 

it  is  all,  not  because  I  am  growing  to  love  some  one  else,  but  because  I 
am  not  growing  to  love  you.  Heaven  knows  I  want  to  love  you ;  foi 
so  long  as  you  hold  me  to  it  my  promise  is  sacred  and  shall  be  kept. 
More  than  that,  if  you  say  that  it  is  your  will  that  I  seclude  myself 
from  these  attentions,  give  up  dancing,  give  up  rides,  drives,  walks,  and 
even  receiving  visits,  here,  so  be  it.  I  will  obey.  But  write  this  tc 
me,  Steven, — not  to  Kate.  I  am  too  proud  to  ask  her  to  show  me  the 
letters  I  know  she  has  received  from  you, — and  there  are  some  she  has 
not  shown  me, — but  I  cannot  understand  a  man's  complaining  to  othei 
persons  of  the  conduct  of  the  woman  who  is,  or  is  to  be,  his  wife. 
Forgive  me  if  I  pain  you :  sometimes  even  to  myself  I  seem  old  and 
strange.  I  have  lived  so  much  alone,  have  had  to  think  and  do  foj 
myself  so  many  years  while  Kate  has  been  away,  that  perhaps  I'm  nol 
*  like  other  girls ;'  but  the  respect  I  feel  for  you  would  be  injured  if  1 
thought  you  strove  to  guide  or  govern  me  through  others  ;  and  of  om 
thing  be  sure,  Steven,  /  must  honor  and  respect  and  look  up  to  the  mart 
I  marry,  love  or  no  love. 

"  Once  you  said  it  would  kill  you  if  you  believed  I  could  be  fals« 
to  you.  If  by  that  you  meant  that,  having  given  my  promise  to  you 
to  be  your  wife  at  some  future  time,  I  must  school  myself  to  love  you. 
and  will  be  considered  false  if  love  do  not  come  at  my  bidding  or  yours. 
I  say  to  you  solemnly,  release  me  now.  I  may  not  love,  but  I  cannoi 
and  will  not  deceive  you,  even  by  simulating  Jove  that  does  not  exist. 
Suppose  that  love  were  to  be  kindled  in  my  heart.  Suppose  I  were  tc 
learn  to  care  for  some  one  here.  You  would  be  the  first  one  to  know  it ; 
for  I  would  tell  you  as  soon  as  I  knew  it  myself.  Then  what  could  I 
hope  for, — or  you  ?  Surely  you  would  not  want  to  marry  a  girl  who 
loved  another  man.  But  is  it  much  better  to  marry  one  who  feels  thai 
she  does  not  love  you  ?  Think  of  it,  Steven  :  I  am  very  lonely,  very 
far  from  happy,  very  wretched  over  Kate's  evident  trouble  and  all  the 
sorrow  I  am  bringing  you  and  yours ;  but  have  I  misled  or  deceived 
you  in  any  one  thing  ?  Once  only  has  a  word  been  spoken  or  a  scent 
occurred  that  you  could  perhaps  have  objected  to.  I  told  you  th( 
whole  thing  in  my  letter  of  Sunday  last,  and  why  I  had  not  told  Kate 
We  have  not  met  since  that  night,  Mr.  Hayne  and  I,  and  may  not : 
but  he  is  a  man  whose  story  excites  my  profound  pity  and  sorrow,  and 
hf  is  one  of  the  two  or  three  I  feel  that  I  would  like  to  see  more  of. 
Is  this  being  false  to  you  or  to  my  promise?  If  so,  Steven,  you  cannot 
say  that  I  have  not  given  you  the  whole  truth. 


THE  DESERTER.  83 

"  It  is  very  late  at  night,— one  o'clock, — and  Kate  is  not  yet  asleep, 
and  the  captain  is  still  down-stairs,  reading.  He  is  not  looking  well  at 
all,  and  Kate  is  sorely  anxious  about  him.  It  was  his  evidence  that 
brought  years  of  ostracism  and  misery  upon  Lieutenant  Hayne,  and 
there  are  vague  indications  that  in  his  own  regiment  the  officers  are 
beginning  to  believe  that  possibly  he  was  not  the  guilty  man.  The 
cavalry  officers,  of  course,  say  nothing  to  us  on  the  subject,  and  I  have 
never  heard  the  full  story.  If  he  has  been,  as  is  suggested,  the  victim 
of  a  scoundrel,  and  Captain  Rayner  was  at  fault  in  his  evidence,  no 
punishment  on  earth  could  be  too  great  for  the  villain  who  planned 
his  ruin,  and  no  remorse  could  atone  for  Captain  Rayner's  share.  I 
never  saw  so  sad  a  face  on  mortal  man  as  Mr.  Hayne's.  Steven  Van 
Antwerp,  I  wish  I  were  a  man  !  I  would  trace  that  mystery  to  the 
bitter  end. 

"  This  is  a  strange  letter  to  send  to — to  you  ;  but  I  am  a  strange 
girl.     Already  I  am  more  than  expecting  you  to  write  and  release  me 
unconditionally  ;  and  you  might  to  do  it.     I  do  not  say  I  want  it. 
"  Faithfully,  at  least,  yours, 

"  NELLIE. 

"  P.S. — Should  you  write  to  Kate,  you  are  not  to  tell  her,  remember, 
of  my  meeting  with  Mr.  Hayne.  Of  course  I  am  anxious  to  have  your 
reply  to  that  letter ;  but  it  will  be  five  days  yet." 

An  odd  letter,  indeed,  for  a  girl  not  yet  twenty,  and  not  of  a  hope- 
inspiring  character ;  but  when  it  reached  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  he  did  not 
pale  in  reading  it :  his  face  was  ghastly  before  he  began.  If  anything, 
he  seemed  relieved  by  some  passages,  though  rejoiced  by  none.  Then 
he  took  from  an  inner  pocket  the  letter  that  had  reached  him  a  few  days 
previous,  and  all  alone  in  his  room,  late  at  night,  he  read  it  over  again, 
threw  it  upon  the  table  at  which  he  was  sitting,  then,  with  passionate 
abandonment,  buried  his  face  in  his  arms  and  groaned  aloud  in  anguish. 

Two  days  after  writing  this  letter  Miss  Travers  was  so  unfortunate 
as  to  hear  a  conversation  in  the  dining-room  which  was  not  intended 
for  her  ears.  She  had  gone  to  her  room  immediately  after  breakfast, 
and,  glancing  from  her  window,  saw  that  the  officers  were  just  going 
to  head-quarters  for  the  daily  matinee.  For  half  or  three-quarters  of 
an  hour,  therefore,  there  could  be  no  probable  interruption ;  and  she 
decided  to  write  an  answer  to  the  letter  which  came  from  Mr.  Van 
Antwerp  the  previous  afternoon.  A  bright  fire  was  burning  in  the 


84  THE  DESERTER. 

old-fashioned  stove  with  which  frontier  quarters  are  warmed  if  not  orna- 
mented, and  she  perched  her  little,  slippered  feet  upon  the  hearth,  took 
her  portfolio  in  her  lap,  and  began.  Mrs.  Rayner  was  in  the  nursery, 
absorbed  with  the  baby  and  the  nurse,  when  a  servant  came  and  an- 
nounced that  "  a  lady  was  in  the  kitchen"  and  wanted  to  speak  with 
the  lady  of  the  house.  Mrs.  Rayner  promptly  responded  that  she  was 
busy  and  couldn't  be  disturbed,  and  wondered  who  it  could  be  that 
came  to  her  kitchen  to  see  her. 

"Can  I  be  of  service,  Kate?"  called  Miss  Travers.  « I  will  run 
down,  if  you  say  so." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  was  the  reply ;  and  Miss  Travers  put  aside 
her  writing.  "  Didn't  she  give  any  name  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner  of 
the  Abigail,  who  was  standing  with  her  head  just  visible  at  the  stair- 
way, it  being  one  of  the  unconquerable  tenets  of  frontier  domestics  to 
go  no  farther  than  is  absolutely  necessary  in  conveying  messages  of  any 
kind ;  and  this  damsel,  though  new  to  the  neighborhood,  was  native  and 
to  the  manner  born  in  all  the  tricks  of  the  trade. 

"  She  said  you  knew  her  name,  ma'am.  She's  the  lady  from  the 
hospital." 

"  Here,  Jane,  take  the  baby  !  Never  mind,  Nellie :  I  must  go  !" 
And  Mrs.  Rayner  started  with  surprising  alacrity ;  but  as  she  passed  her 
door  Miss  Travers  saw  the  look  of  deep  anxiety  on  her  face. 

A  moment  later  she  heard  voices  at  the  front  door, — a  party  of  ladies 
who  were  going  to  spend  the  morning  with  the  colonel's  wife  at  some 
"  Dorcas  society"  work  which  many  of  them  had  embraced  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  I  want  to  see  Miss  Travers,  just  a  minute,"  she  heard  a  voice 
say,  and  recognized  the  pleasant  tones  of  Mrs.  Curtis,  the  young  wife 
of  one  of  the  infantry  officers  :  so  a  second  time  she  put  aside  her 
writing,  and  then  ran  down  to  the  front  door.  Mrs.  Curtis  merely 
wanted  to  remind  her  that  she  must  be  sure  to  come  and  spend  the 
afternoon  with  her  and  bring  her  music,  and  was  dismayed  to  find  that 
Miss  Travers  could  not  come  before  stable-call :  she  had  an  engage- 
ment. "  Of  course  :  I  might  have  known  it :  you  are  besieged  every 
hour.  Well,  can  you  come  to-morrow  ?  Do."  And,  to-morrow  being 
settled  upon,  and  despite  the  fact  that  several  of  the  party  waiting  on 
the  sidewalk  looked  cold  and  impatient,  Mrs.  Curtis  found  it  impossible 
to  tear  herself  away  until  certain  utterly  irrelevant  matters  had  been 
lightly  touched  upon  and  lingeringly  abandoned.  The  officers  were  just 
beginning  to  pour  forth  from  head-quarters  when  the  group  of  ladies 


THE  DESERTER.  85 

finally  got  under  way  again  and  Miss  Travers  closed  the  door.  It 
was  now  useless  to  return  to  her  letter :  so  she  strolled  into  the  parlor 
just  as  she  heard  her  sister's  voice  at  the  kitchen  door  : 

"  Come  right  in  here,  Mrs.  Clancy.     Now,  quick,  what  is  it  ?" 
And  from  the  dining-room  came  the  answer,  hurried,  half  whispered, 
and  mysterious, — 

"  He's  been  drinkin'  ever  since  he  got  out  of  hospital,  ma'am,  an' 
he's  worse  than  ever  about  Loot'nant  Hayne.  It's  mischief  he'll  be 

doin',  ma'am  :  he's  crazy-like " 

"  Mrs.  Clancy,  you  must  watch  him.     You Hush  !" 

And  here  she  stopped  short,  for,  in  astonishment  at  what  she  had 
already  heard,  and  in  her  instant  effort  to  hear  no  more  of  what  was  so 
evidently  not  intended  for  her,  Miss  Travers  hurried  from  the  parlor, 
the  swish  of  her  skirts  telling  loudly  of  her  presence  there.  She  went 
again  to  her  room.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Why  was  her  proud,  im- 
perious Kate  holding  secret  interviews  with  this  coarse  and  vulgar 
woman  ?  What  concern  was  it  of  hers  that  Clancy  should  be  "  worse" 
about  Mr.  Hayne  ?  It  could  not  mean  that  the  mischief  he  would  do 
was  mischief  to  the  man  who  had  saved  his  life  and  his  property.  That 
was  out  of  the  question.  It  could  not  mean  that  the  poor,  broken- 
down,  drunken  fellow  had  the  means  in  his  power  of  further  harming  a 
man  who  had  already  been  made  to  suffer  so  much.  Indeed,  Kate's 
very  exclamation,  the  very  tone  in  which  she  spoke,  showed  a  distress 
of  mind  that  arose  from  no  fear  for  one  whom  she  hated  as  she  hated 
Hayne.  Her  anxiety  was  personal.  It  was  for  her  husband  and  for 
herself  she  feared,  or  woman's  tone  and  tongue  never  yet  revealed  a 
secret.  Nellie  Travers  stood  in  her  room  stunned  and  bewildered,  yet 
trying  hard  to  recall  and  put  together  all  the  scattered  stories  and 
rumors  that  had  reached  her  about  the  strange  conduct  of  Clancy 
after  he  was  taken  to  the  hospital, — especially  about  his  heart-broken 
wail  when  told  that  it  was  Lieutenant  Hayne  who  had  rescued  him  and 
little  Kate  from  hideous  death.  Somewhere,  somehow,  this  man  was 
connected  with  the  mystery  which  encircled  the  long-hidden  truth  in 
Hayne's  trouble.  Could  it  be  possible  that  he  did  not  realize  it,  and 

that  her  sister  had  discovered  it  ?     Could  it  be oh,  heaven  !  no  ! — 

could  it  be  that  Kate  was  standing  between  that  lonely  and  friendless 
-  man  and  the  revelation  that  would  set  him  right  ?     She  could  not  be- 
lieve it  of  her  !     She  would  not  believe  it  of  her  sister  !     And  yet  what 
did  Kate  mean  by  charging  Mrs.  Clancy  to  watch  him, — that  drunken 

8 


86  THE  DESERTER. 

husband?  What  could  it  mean  but  that  she  was  striving  to  prevent 
Mr.  Hayne's  ever  hearing  the  truth  ?  She  longed  to  learn  more  and 
solve  the  riddle  once  and  for  all.  They  were  still  earnestly  talking  to- 
gether down  in  the  dining-room  ;  but  she  could  not  listen.  Kate  knew 
her  so  well  that  she  had  not  closed  the  door  leading  into  the  hall,  though 
both  she  and  the  laundress  of  Company  B  had  lowered  their  voices.  It 
was  disgraceful  at  best,  thought  Miss  Travers,  it  was  beneath  her  sister, 
that  she  should  hold  any  private  conversation  with  a  woman  of  that  class. 
Confidences  with  such  were  contamination.  She  half  determined  to 
rush  down-stairs  and  put  an  end  to  it,  but  was  saved  the  scene  :  fresh 
young  voices,  hearty  ringing  tones,  and  the  stamp  of  heavy  boot-heels 
were  heard  at  the  door ;  and  as  Rayner  entered,  ushering  in  Royce  and 
Graham,  Mrs.  Rayner  and  the  laundress  fled  once  more  to  the  kitchen. 

When  the  sisters  found  themselves  alone  again,  it  was  late  in  the 
evening.  Mrs.  Rayner  came  to  Nellie's  room  and  talked  on  various 
topics  for  some  little  time,  watching  narrowly  her  sister's  face.  The 
young  girl  hardly  spoke  at  all.  It  was  evident  to  the  elder  what  her 
thoughts  must  be. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  I  should  explain  Mrs.  Clancy's  agitation  and 
mysterious  conduct,  Nellie,"  she  finally  and  suddenly  said. 

"  I  do  not  want  you  to  tell  me  anything,  Kate,  that  you  yourself 
do  not  wish  to  tell  me.  You  understand,  of  course,  how  I  happened 
to  be  there  ?" 

"  Oh,  certainly.  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that.  You  couldn't  help 
hearing  ;  but  you  must  have  thought  it  queer, — her  being  so  agitated,  I 
mean." 

No  answer. 

"Kdn'tyou?" 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  her  at  all." 

"  What  did  you  think,  then  ?"  half  defiantly,  yet  trembling  and 
growing  white. 

"  I  thought  it  strange  that  you  should  be  talking  with  her  in  such  a 
way." 

"  She  was  worried  about  her  husband, — his  drinking  so  much, — and 
came  to  consult  me." 

"  Why  should  she — and  you — show  such  consternation  at  his  con- 
nection with  the  name  of  Mr.  Hayne?" 

"Nellie,  that  matter  is  one  you  know  I  cannot  bear  to  talk  of." 
("  Very  recently  only,"  thought  the  younger.)  "  You  once  asked  m« 


THE  DESERTER.  87 

to  tell  you  what  Mr.  Hayne's  crime  had  been,  and  I  answered  that 
until  you  could  hear  the  whole  story  you  could  not  understand  the 
matter  at  all.  We  are  both  worried  about  Clancy.  He  is  not  himself; 
he  is  wild  and  imaginative  when  he's  drinking.  He  has  some  strange 
fancies  since  the  fire,  and  he  thinks  he  ought  to  do  something  to  help 
the  officer  because  he  helped  him,  and  his  head  is  full  of  Police  Gazette 
stories,  utterly  without  foundation,  and  he  thinks  he  can  tell  who  the 
real  culprits  were, — or  something  of  that  kind.  It  is  utter  nonsense. 
I  have  investigated  the  whole  thing, — heard  the  whole  story.  It  is 
the  trashiest,  most  impossible  thing  you  ever  dreamed  of,  and  would 
only  make  fearful  trouble  if  Mr.  Hayne  got  hold  of  it." 

"Why?" 

"  Why  ?  Because  he  is  naturally  vengeful  and  embittered,  and  he 
would  seize  on  any  pretext  to  make  it  unpleasant  for  the  officers  who 
brought  about  his  trial." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  what  Clancy  says  in  any  way  affects  them  ?" 
asked  Nell,  with  quickening  pulse  and  color. 

"  It  might,  if  there  were  a  word  of  truth  in  it ;  but  it  is  the  maudlin 
dream  of  a  liquor-maddened  brain.  Mrs.  Clancy  and  I  both  know 
that  what  he  says  is  utterly  impossible.  Indeed,  he  tells  no  two  stories 
alike." 

"  Has  he  told  you  anything  ?" 

"  No ;  but  she  tells  me  everything." 

"  How  do  you  know  she  tells  the  truth  ?" 

"Nellie  !  Why  should  she  deceive  me?  I  have  done  everything 
for  them." 

"  I  distrust  her  all  the  same ;  and  you  had  better  be  warned  in 
time.  If  he  has  any  theory,  no  matter  how  crack-brained,  or  if  he 
knows  anything  about  the  case  and  wants  to  tell  it  to  Mr.  Hayne,  you 
are  the  last  woman  on  earth  who  should  stand  in  the  way." 

"Upon  my  word,  Nellie  Travers,  this  is  going  too  far!  One 
would  think  you  believed  I  wish  to  stand  in  the  way  of  that  young 
man's  restoration." 

"  Kate,  if  you  lift  a  hand  or  speak  one  word  to  prevent  Clancy's 
seeing  Mr.  Hayne  and  telling  him  everything  he  knows,  you  will  make 
me  believe — precisely  that." 

Captain  Rayner  heard  sobbing  and  lamentation  on  the  bedroom 
floor  when  he  came  in  a  few  moments  after.  Going  aloft,  he  found 
Miss  Travers's  door  closed  as  usual,  and  his  wife  in  voluble  distress 


88  THE  DESERTER. 

of  mind.  He  could  only  learn  that  she  and  Nellie  had  had  a  falling 
out,  and  that  Nell  had  behaved  in  a  most  unjust,  disrespectful,  and  out- 
rageous way.  She  declined  to  give  further  particulars. 


Miss  Travers  had  other  reasons  for  wanting  to  be  alone.  That 
very  afternoon,  just  after  stable-call,  she  found  herself  unoccupied  for 
the  time  being,  and  decided  to  go  over  and  see  Mrs.  Waldron  a  few 
moments.  The  servant  admitted  her  to  the  little  army  parlor,  and 
informed  her  that  Mrs.  Waldron  had  stepped  out,  but  would  be  home 
directly.  A  bright  wood  fire  was  blazing  on  the  hearth  and  throwing 
flickering  lights  and  shadows  about  the  cosey  room.  The  piano  stood 
invitingly  open,  and  on  the  rack  were  some  waltzes  of  Strauss  she  re- 
membered having  heard  the  cavalry  band  play  a  night  or  two  previous. 
Seating  herself,  she  began  to  try  them,  and  speedily  became  interested. 
Her  back  being  to  the  door,  she  did  not  notice  that  another  visitor  was 
soon  ushered  in, — a  man.  She  continued  slowly  "picking  out"  the 
melody,  for  the  light  was  growing  dim  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
she  could  distinguish  the  notes.  Twice  she  essayed  a  somewhat  com- 
plicated passage,  became  entangled,  bent  down  and  closely  scanned  the 
music,  began  again,  once  more  became  involved,  exclaimed  impatiently, 
"  How  absurd !"  and  whirled  about  on  the  piano-stool,  to  find  herself 
facing  Mr.  Hayne. 

Now  that  the  bandage  was  removed  from  his  eyes  it  was  no  such 
easy  matter  to  meet  him.  Her  sweet  face  flushed  instantly  as  he  bent 
low  and  spoke  her  name. 

"I  had  no  idea  any  one  was  here.  It  quite  startled  me,"  she 
said,  as  she  withdrew  from  his  the  hand  she  had  mechanically  ex- 
tended to  him. 

"  It  was  my  hope  not  to  interrupt  you,"  he  answered,  in  the  low, 
gentle  voice  she  had  marked  before.  "  You  helped  me  when  my 
music  was  all  adrift  the  other  night :  may  I  not  help  you  find  some 

of  this  r 

"  I  wish  you  would  play,  Mr.  Hayne." 

"  I  will  play  for  you  gladly,  Miss  Travers,  but  waltz-music  is  not 
my  forte.  Let  me  see  what  else  there  is  here."  And  he  began  turning 
over  the  sheets  on  the  stand. 


THE  DESERTER.  89 

"  Are  your  eyes  well  enough  to  read  music, — especially  in  such  ft 
dim  light?"  she  asked,  with  evident  sympathy. 

"  My  eyes  are  doing  very  well, — better  than  my  fingers,  in  fact, — 
and,  as  I  rarely  play  by  note  after  I  once  learn  a  piece,  the  eyes  make 
no  difference.  What  music  do  you  like  ?  I  merely  looked  at  this  col- 
lection thinking  you  might  see  something  that  pleased  you." 

"  Mrs.  Ray  told  me  you  played  Rubinstein  so  well, — that  melody 
in  F,  for  one." 

"  Did  Mrs.  Ray  speak  of  that  ?"— his  face  brightening.  "  I'm  glad 
they  found  anything  to  enjoy  in  my  music." 

" '  They'  found  a  great  deal,  Mr.  Hayne,  and  there  are  a  number 
who  are  envious  of  their  good  fortune, — I,  for  one,"  she  answered, 
blithely.  "Now  play  for  me.  Mrs.  Waldron  will  be  here  in  a 
minute." 

And  when  Mrs.  Waldron  came  in,  a  little  later,  Miss  Travers,  seated 
in  an  easy-chair  and  looking  intently  into  the  blaze,  was  listening  as 
intently  to  the  soft,  rich  melodies  that  Mr.  Hayne  was  playing.  The 
firelight  was  flickering  on  her  shining  hair;  one  slender  white  hand 
was  toying  with  the  locket  that  hung  at  her  throat,  the  other  gently 
tapping  on  the  arm  of  the  chair  in  unison  with  the  music.  And  Mr. 
Hayne,  seated  in  the  shadow,  bent  slightly  over  the  key-board,  absorbed 
in  his  pleasant  task,  and  playing  as  though  all  his  soul  were  thrilling  in 
his  finger-tips.  Mrs.  Waldron  stood  in  silence  at  the  door- way,  watch- 
ing the  unconscious  pair  with  an  odd  yet  comforted  expression  in  her 
eyes.  At  last,  in  one  long,  sweet,  sighing  chord,  the  melody  softly 
died  away,  and  Mr.  Hayne  slowly  turned  and  looked  upon  the  girl. 
She  seemed  to  have  wandered  off  into  dream-land.  For  a  moment  there 
was  no  sound  ;  then,  with  a  little  shivering  sigh,  she  roused  herself. 

"  It  is  simply  exquisite,"  she  said.  "  You  have  given  me  such  a 
treat !" 

"  I'm  glad.    I  owe  you  a  great  deal  more  pleasure,  Miss  Travers." 

Mrs.  Waldron  hereat  elevated  her  eyebrows.  She  would  have 
slipped  away  if  she  could,  but  she  was  a  woman  of  substance,  and  as 
solid  in  flesh  as  she  was  warm  of  heart.  She  did  the  only  thing  left 
to  her, — caine  cordially  forward  to  welcome  her  two  visitors  and  ex- 
press her  delight  that  Miss  Travers  could  have  an  opportunity  of  hear- 
ing Mr.  Hayne  play.  She  soon  succeeded  in  starting  him  again,  and 
shortly  thereafter  managed  to  slip  out  unnoticed.  When  he  turned 
around  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  she  had  vanished. 

8* 


90  THE  DESERTER. 

"  Why,  I  had  no  idea  she  was  gone  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Travers ;  anc 
then  the  color  mounted  to  her  brow.  He  must  think  her  extremelj 
absorbed  in  his  playing ;  and  so  indeed  she  was. 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  music,  I  see,"  he  said,  at  a  venture. 

"  Yes,  very ;  but  I  play  very  little  and  very  badly.  Pardon  me 
Mr.  Hayne,  but  you  have  played  many  years,  have  you  not  ?" 

"  Not  so  very  many ;  but there  have  been  many  in  which  I  hac 

little  else  to  do  but  practise." 

She  reddened  again.  It  was  so  unlike  him,  she  thought,  to  refer  to 
that  matter  in  speaking  to  her.  He  seemed  to  read  her : 

"  I  speak  of  it  only  that  I  may  say  to  you  again  what  I  began  jusi 
before  Mrs.  Waldron  came.  You  gave  me  no  opportunity  to  thank 
you  the  other  night,  and  I  may  not  have  another.  You  do  not  knoM 
what  an  event  in  my  life  that  meeting  with  you  was ;  and  you  cannol 
know  how  I  have  gone  over  your  words  again  and  again.  Forgive  m< 
the  embarrassment  I  see  I  cause  you,  Miss  Travers.  We  are  so  un- 
likely to  meet  at  all  that  you  can  afford  to  indulge  me  this  once."  He 
was  smiling  so  gravely,  sadly,  now,  and  had  risen  and  was  standing  by 
her  as  she  sat  there  in  the  big  easy-chair,  still  gazing  into  the  fire,  but 
listening  for  his  every  word.  "  In  five  long  years  I  have  heard  no 
words  from  a  woman's  lips  that  gave  me  such  joy  and  comfort  as  those 
you  spoke  so  hurriedly  and  without  premeditation.  Only  those  who 
know  anything  of  what  my  past  has  been  could  form  any  idea  of  the 
emotion  with  which  I  heard  you.  If  I  could  not  have  seen  you  to  say 
how — how  I  thanked  you,  I  would  have  had  to  write.  This  explains 
what  I  said  awhile  ago  :  I  owe  you  more  pleasure  than  I  can  ever  give. 
But  one  thing  was  certain :  I  could  not  bear  the  idea  that  you  should 
not  be  told,  and  by  me,  how  grateful  your  words  were  to  me, — how 
grateful  I  was  to  you.  Again,  may  God  bless  you  !" 

And  now  he  turned  abruptly  away,  awaiting  no  answer,  reseated 
himself  at  the  piano  and  retouched  the  keys.  But,  though  she  sat 
motionless  and  speechless,  she  knew  that  he  had  been  trembling  so 
violently  and  that  his  hands  were  still  so  tremulous  he  could  play  no 
more.  It  was  some  minutes  that  they  sat  thus,  neither  speaking ;  and 
as  he  regained  his  self-control  and  began  to  attempt  some  simple  little 
melodies,  Mrs.  Waldron  returned  : 

"  How  very  domestic  you  look,  young  people  !     Shall  we  light  the 


"  I've  stayed  too  long  already,"  said  Miss  Travers,  springing  to  her 


THE  DESERTER.  91 

feet.  "  Kate  does  not  know  I'm  out,  and  will  be  wondering  what  haa 
become  of  her  sister."  She  laughed  nervously.  "  Thank  you  so  much 
for  the  music,  Mr.  Hayne ! — Forgive  my  running  off  so  suddenly,  won't 
you,  Mrs.  Waldron?"  she  asked,  pleadingly,  as  she  put  her  hand  in 
hers ;  and  as  her  hostess  reassured  her  she  bent  and  kissed  the  girl's 
flushed  cheek.  Mr.  Hayne  was  still  standing  patiently  by  the  centre- 
table.  Once  more  she  turned,  and  caught  his  eye,  flushed,  half  hesitated, 
then  held  out  her  hand  with  quick  impulse-: 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Hayne.     I  shall  hope  to  hear  you  play  again." 

And,  with  pulses  throbbing,  and  cheeks  that  still  burned,  she  ran 
quickly  down  the  line  to  Captain  Rayner's  quarters,  and  was  up-stairs 
and  in  her  room  in  another  minute. 

This  was  an  interview  she  would  find  it  hard  to  tell  to  Kate.  But 
told  it  was,  partially,  and  she  was  sitting  now,  late  at  night,  hearing 
through  her  closed  door  her  sister's  unmusical  lamentations, — hearing 
still  ringing  in  her  ears  the  reproaches  heaped  upon  her  when  that 
sister  was  quietly  told  that  she  and  Mr.  Hayne  had  met  twice.  And 
now  she  was  sitting  there,  true  to  herself  and  her  resolution,  telling  Mr. 
Van  Antwerp  all  about  it.  Can  one  conjecture  the  sensations  with 
which  he  received  and  read  that  letter  ? 

Mr.  Hayne,  too,  was  having  a  wakeful  night.  He  had  gone  to 
Mrs.  Waldron's  to  pay  a  dinner-call,  with  the  result  just  told.  He 
had  one  or  two  other  visits  to  make  among  the  cavalry  households  in 
garrison,  but,  after  a  few  moments'  chat  with  Mrs.  Waldron,  he  decided 
that  he  preferred  going  home.  Sam  had  to  call  three  times  before  Mr. 
Hayne  obeyed  the  summons  to  dinner  that  evening.  The  sun  was  going 
down  behind  the  great  range  to  the  southwest,  and  the  trumpets  were 
pealing  "  retreat"  on  the  frosty  air,  but  Hayne's  curtains  were  drawn, 
and  he  was  sitting  before  his  fire,  deep  in  thought,  hearing  nothing. 
The  doctor  came  in  soon  after  he  finished  his  solitary  dinner,  chatted 
with  him  awhile,  and  smoked  away  at  his  pipe.  He  wanted  to  talk 
with  Hayne  about  some  especial  matter,  and  he  found  it  hard  work  to 
begin.  The  more  he  saw  of  his  patient  the  better  he  liked  him :  he 
was  interested  in  him,  and  had  been  making  inquiries.  Without  his 
pipe  he  found  himself  uninspired. 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  if  you  will  permit,  I'll  fill  up  and  blow  another 
cloud.  Didn't  you  ever  smoke  ?" 

"  Yes.     I  was  very  fond  of  my  cigar  six  or  seven  years  ago." 


92  THE  DESERTER. 

"  And  you  gave  it  up  ?"  asked  the  doctor,  tugging  away  at  the 
strings  of  his  little  tobacco-pouch. 

"  I  gave  up  everything  that  was  not  an  absolute  necessity,"  said 
Hayne,  calmly.  "  Until  I  could  get  free  of  a  big  load  there  was  no 
comfort  in  anything.  After  that  was  gone  I  had  no  more  use  for  such 
old  friends  than  certain  other  old  friends  seemed  to  have  for  me.  It 
was  a  mutual  cut." 

"  To  the  best  of  my  belief,  you  were  the  gainer  in  both  cases,"  said 
the  doctor,  gruffly.  "  The  longer  I  live  the  more  I  agree  with  Carlyle  : 
the  men  we  live  and  move  with  are  mostly  fools." 

Hayne's  face  was  as  grave  and  quiet  as  ever : 

"These  are  hard  lessons  to  learn,  doctor.  I  presume  few  young 
fellows  thought  more  of  human  friendship  than  I  did  the  first  two  years 
I  was  in  service." 

"  Hayne,"  said  the  doctor,  "  sometimes  I  have  thought  you  did  not 
want  to  talk  about  this  matter  to  any  soul  on  earth ;  but  I  am  speaking 
from  no  empty  curiosity  now.  If  you  forbid  it,  I  shall  not  intrude ; 
but  there  are  some  questions  that,  since  knowing  you,  and  believing  in 
you  as  I  unquestionably  do,  I  would  like  to  ask.  You  seem  bent  on 
returning  to  duty  here  to-morrow,  though  you  might  stay  on  sick  report 
ten  days  yet ;  and  I  want  to  stand  between  you  and  the  possibility  of 
annoyance  and  trouble  if  I  can." 

"  You  are  kind,  and  I  appreciate  it,  doctor ;  but  do  you  think  that 
the  colonel  is  a  man  who  will  be  apt  to  let  me  suffer  injustice  at  the 
hands  of  any  one  here?" 

"  I  don't,  indeed.  He  is  full  of  sympathy  for  you,  and  I  know  he 
means  you  shall  have  fair  play;  but  a  company  commander  has  as 
many  and  as  intangible  ways  of  making  a  man  suffer  as  has  a  woman. 
How  do  you  stand  with  Rayner  ?" 

"  Precisely  where  I  stood  five  years  ago.  He  is  the  most  determined 
enemy  I  have  in  the  service,  and  will  down  me  if  he  can ;  but  I  have 
learned  a  good  deal  in  my  time.  There  is  a  grim  sort  of  comfort  now 
in  knowing  that  while  he  would  gladly  trip  me  I  can  make  him  miser- 
able by  being  too  strong  for  him." 

"  You  still  hold  the  same  theory  as  to  his  evidence  you  did  at  the 
time  of  the  court  ?  of  course  I  have  heard  what  you  said  to  and  of 
him." 

"  I  have  never  changed  in  that  respect." 

"  But  supposing  that — mind  you,  /  believe  he  was  utterly  mistaken 


THE  DESERTER  93 

in  what  he  thought  he  heard  and  saw, — supposing  that  all  that  was 
testified  to  by  him  actually  occurred,  have  you  any  theory  that  would 
point  out  the  real  criminal  ?" 

"  Only  one.  If  that  money  was  ever  handed  me  that  day  at  Battle 
Butte,  only  one  man  could  have  made  away  with  it ;  and  it  is  useless 
to  charge  it  to  him." 

"You  mean  ftayner?" 

"  I  have  to  mean  Kayner." 

"  But  you  claim  it  never  reached  you  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Yet  every  other  package — memoranda  and  all — was  handed  you?" 

"  Not  only  that,  but  Captain  Hull  handed  me  the  money-packet 
with  the  others, — took  them  all  from  his  saddle-bags  just  before  the 
charge.  The  packet  was  sealed  when  he  gave  it  to  me,  and  when  I 
broke  the  seal  it  was  stuffed  with  worthless  blanks." 

"  And  you  have  never  suspected  a  soldier, — a  single  messenger  or 
«p.rvant?" 

<  Not  one.     Whom  could  I  ?" 

'  Hayne,  had  you  any  knowledge  of  this  man  Clancy  before?" 

'  Clancy  !     The  drunken  fellow  we  pulled  out  of  the  fire  ?" 

'  The  same." 

'  No ;  never  to  my  knowledge  saw  or  heard  of  him,  except  when 
he  appeared  as  witness  at  the  court." 

"  Yet  he  was  with  the  — th  Cavalry  at  that  very  fight  at  Battle 
Butte.  He  was  a  sergeant  then,  though  not  in  Hull's  troop." 

" Does  he  say  he  knew  me?  or  does  he  talk  of  that  affair?"  asked 
the  lieutenant,  with  sudden  interest. 

"  Not  that.  He  cannot  be  said  to  say  anything ;  but  he  was  won- 
derfully affected  over  your  rescuing  him, — strangely  so,  one  of  the 
nurses  persists  in  telling  me,  though  the  steward  and  Mrs.  Clancy  de- 
clare it  was  just  drink  and  excitement.  Still,  I  have  drawn  from  him 
that  he  knew  you  well  by  sight  during  that  campaign ;  but  he  says  he 
was  not  by  when  Hull  was  killed." 

"  Does  he  act  as  though  he  knew  anything  that  could  throw  any 
light  on  the  matter  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say.  His  wife  declares  he  has  been  queer  all  winter, — 
hard  drinking, — and  of  course  that  is  possible." 

"  Sam  told  me  there  was  a  soldier  here  two  nights  ago  who  wanted 


94  THE  DESERTER. 

to  talk  with  me,  but  the  man  was  drunk,  and  he  would  not  let  him  In 
or  tell  me.  He  thought  he  wanted  to  borrow  money." 

"  I  declare,  I  believe  it  was  Clancy  I"  said  the  doctor.  "  If  he 
wants  to  see  you  and  talk,  let  him.  There's  no  telling  but  what  even 
a  drink-racked  brain  may  bring  the  matter  to  light." 

And  long  that  night  Mr.  Hayne  sat  there  thinking,  partly  of  what 
the  doctor  had  said,  but  more  of  what  had  occurred  during  the  late 
afternoon.  Midnight  was  called  by  the  sentries.  He  went  to  his  door 
and  looked  out  on  the  broad,  bleak  prairie,  the  moonlight  glinting  on 
the  tin  roofing  of  the  patch  of  buildings  over  at  the  station  far  across 
the  dreary  level  and  glistening  on  the  patches  of  snow  that  here  and 
there  streaked  the  surface.  It  was  all  so  cold  and  calm  and  still.  His 
blood  was  hot  and  fevered.  Something  invited  him  into  the  peace  and 
purity  of  the  night.  He  threw  on  his  overcoat  and  furs,  and  strolled 
up  to  the  gateway,  past  the  silent  and  deserted  store,  whose  lighted  bar 
and  billiard-room  was  generally  the  last  thing  to  close  along  Prairie 
Avenue.  There  was  not  a  glimmer  of  light  about  the  quarters  of  the 
trader  or  the  surgeon's  beyond.  One  or  two  faint  gleams  stole  through 
the  blinds  at  the  big  hospital,  and  told  of  the  night-watch  by  some 
fevered  bedside.  He  passed  on  around  the  fence  and  took  a  path  that 
led  to  the  target-ranges  north  of  the  post  and  back  of  officers'  row, 
thinking  deeply  all  the  while ;  and  finally,  re-entering  the  garrison  by 
the  west  gate,  he  came  down  along  the  hard  gravelled  walk  that  passed 
in  circular  sweeps  the  offices  and  the  big  house  of  the  colonel  com- 
manding and  then  bore  straight  away  in  front  of  the  entire  line.  All 
was  darkness  and  quiet.  He  passed  in  succession  the  houses  of  the 
field-officers  of  the  cavalry,  looked  longingly  at  the  darkened  front  of 
Major  Waldron's  cottage,  where  he  had  lived  so  sweet  an  hour  before 
the  setting  of  the  last  sun,  then  went  on  again  and  paused  surprised  in 
front  of  Captain  Rayner's.  A  bright  light  was  still  burning  in  the 
front  room  on  the  second  floor.  Was  she,  too,  awake  and  thinking  of 
that  interview  ?  He  looked  wistfully  at  the  lace  curtains  that  shrouded 
the  interior,  and  then  the  clank  of  a  cavalry  sabre  sounded  in  his  ears, 
and  a  tall  officer  came  springily  across  the  road. 

"  Who  the  devil's  that  ?"  was  the  blunt  military  greeting. 

"  Mr.  Hayne,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"  What  ?  Mr.  Hayne  ?  Oh  !  Beg  your  pardon,  man, — couldn't 
imagine  who  it  was  mooning  around  out  here  after  midnight." 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  answered  Hayne.     "  I  am  rather  given  to  late 


THE  DESERTER.  95 

hours,  and  after  reading  a  long  time  I  often  take  a  stroll  before  turn- 
ing in." 

"Ah,  yes :  I  see.  Well,  won't  you  drop  in  and  chat  awhile  ?  I'm 
officer  of  the  day,  and  have  to  owl  to-night." 

"  Thanks,  no,  not  this  time ;  I  must  go  to  bed.  Good-night,  Mr. 
Blake." 

"  Good-night  to  you,  Mr.  Hayne,"  said  Blake,  then  stood  gazing 
perplexedly  after  him.  "  Now,  my  fine  fellow,"  was  his  dissatisfied 
query,  "what  on  earth  do  you  mean  by  prowling  around  Rayner's 
at  this  hour  of  the  night?" 

XI. 

It  was  very  generally  known  throughout  Fort  Warrener  by  ten 
o'clock  on  the  following  morning  that  Mr.  Hayne  had  returned  to  duty 
and  was  one  of  the  first  officers  to  appear  at  the  matin&e.  Once  more 
the  colonel  had  risen  from  his  chair,  taken  him  by  the  hand,  and  wel- 
comed him.  This  time  he  expressed  the  hope  that  nothing  would  now 
occur  to  prevent  their  seeing  him  daily. 

"Won't  you  come  in  to  the  club-room?"  asked  Captain  Gregg, 
afterwards.  "  We  will  be  pleased  to  have  you." 

"  Excuse  me,  captain,  I  shall  be  engaged  all  morning,"  answered 
Mr.  Hayne,  and  walked  on  down  the  row.  Nearly  all  the  officers  were 
strolling  away  in  groups  of  three  or  four.  Hayne  walked  past  them 
all  with  quick,  soldierly  step  and  almost  aggressive  manner,  and  was 
soon  far  ahead,  all  by  himself.  Finding  it  an  unprofitable  subject, 
there  had  been  little  talk  between  the  two  regiments  as  to  what  Mr. 
Hayne's  status  should  be  on  his  reappearance.  Everybody  heard  that 
he  had  somewhat  rudely  spurned  the  advances  of  Ross  and  his  com- 
panions. Indeed,  Ross  had  told  the  story  with  strong  coloring  to  more 
than  half  the  denizens  of  officers'  row.  Evidently  he  desired  no  further 
friendship  or  intercourse  with  his  brother  blue-straps ;  and  only  a  few 
of  the  cavalry  officers  found  his  society  attractive.  He  played  de- 
lightfully ;  he  was  well  read  ;  but  in  general  talk  he  was  not  entertain- 
ing. "  Altogether  too  sepulchral, — or  at  least  funereal,"  explained  the 
cavalry.  "  He  never  laughs,  and  rarely  smiles,  and  he's  as  glum  as  a 
Quaker  meeting,"  was  another  complaint.  So  a  social  success  was 
hardly  to  be  predicted  for  Mr.  Hayne. 

While  he  could  not  be  invited  where  just  a  few  infantry  people 


96  THE  DESERTER. 

were  the  other  guests,  from  a  big  general  gathering  or  party  he,  of 
course,  could  not  be  omitted  ;  but  there  he  would  have  his  cavalry  and 
medical  friends  to  talk  to,  and  then  there  was  Major  Waldron.  It  was 
a  grievous  pity  that  there  should  be  such  an  element  of  embarrassment, 
but  it  couldn't  be  helped.  As  the  regimental  adjutant  had  said,  Hayne 
himself  was  the  main  obstacle  to  his  restoration  to  regimental  friend- 
ship. No  man  who  piques  himself  on  the  belief  that  he  is  about  to  do 
a  virtuous  and  praiseworthy  act  will  be  apt  to  persevere  when  the  ob- 
ject of  his  benevolence  treats  him  with  cold  contempt.  If  Mr.  Hayne 
saw  fit  to  repudiate  the  civilities  a  few  officers  essayed  to  extend  to  him, 
no  others  would  subject  themselves  to  similar  rebuffs ;  and  if  he  could 
stand  the  stains  quo,  why,  the  regiment  could ;  and  that,  said  the  Riflers, 
was  the  end  of  the  matter. 

But  it  was  not  the  end,  by  a  good  deal.  Some  few  of  the  ladies  of 
the  infantry,  actuated  by  Mrs.  Rayner's  vehement  exposition  of  the 
case,  had  aligned  themselves  on  her  side  as  against  the  post  commander, 
and  by  their  general  conduct  sought  to  convey  to  the  colonel  and  to  the 
ladies  who  were  present  at  the  first  dinner  given  Mr.  Hayne  thorough 
disapproval  of  their  course.  This  put  the  cavalry  people  on  their  mettle 
and  led  to  a  division  in  the  garrison ;  and  as  Major  Waldron  was,  in 
Mrs.  Rayner's  eyes,  equally  culpable  with  the  colonel,  it  so  resulted  that 
two  or  three  infantry  households,  together  with  some  unmarried  subal- 
terns, were  arrayed  socially  against  their  own  battalion  commander 
as  well  as  against  the  grand  panjandrum  at  post  head-quarters.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  the  determined  attitude  of  Mr.  Hayne  himself,  the 
garrison  might  speedily  have  been  resolved  into  two  parties, — Hayne 
and  anti-Hayne  sympathizers;  but  the  whole  bearing  of  that  young 
man  was  fiercely  repellent  of  sympathy :  he  would  have  none  of  it. 
"  Hayne's  position,"  said  Major  Waldron,  "  is  practically  this :  he 
holds  that  no  man  who  has  borne  himself  as  he  has  during  these  five 
years — denied  himself  everything  that  he  might  make  up  every  cent 
that  was  lost,  though  he  was  in  no  wise  responsible  for  the  loss — could 
by  any  possibility  have  been  guilty  of  the  charges  on  which  he  was 
tried.  From  this  he  will  not  abate  one  jot  or  tittle ;  and  he  refuses 
now  to  restore  to  his  friendship  the  men  who  repudiated  him  in  his 
years  of  trouble,  except  on  their  profession  of  faith  in  his  entire  inno- 
cence." Now,  this  was  something  the  cavalry  could  not  do  without 
some  impeachment  of  the  evidence  which  was  heaped  up  against  the 
poor  fellow  at  the  time  of  the  trial ;  and  it  was  something  the  infantry 


THE  DESERTER.  97 

would  not  do,  because  thereby  they  would  virtually  pronounce  one  at 
least  of  their  own  officers  to  have  repeatedly  and  persistently  given 
false  testimony.  In  the  case  of  Waldron  and  the  cavalry,  however,  it 
was  possible  for  Hayne  to  return  their  calls  of  courtesy,  because  they, 
having  never  "  sent  him  to  Coventry,"  received  him  precisely  as  they 
would  receive  any  other  officer.  With  the  Riflers  it  was  different : 
having  once  "  cut"  him  as  though  by  unanimous  accord,  and  having 
taught  the  young  officers  joining  year  after  year  to  regard  him  as  a 
criminal,  they  could  be  restored  to  Mr.  Hayne's  friendship,  as  has  been 
said  before,  only  "  on  confession  of  error."  Buxton  and  two  or  three 
of  his  stamp  called  or  left  their  cards  on  Mr.  Hayne  because  their 
colonel  had  so  done ;  but  precisely  as  the  ceremony  was  performed,  just 
so  was  it  returned.  Buxton  was  red  with  wrath  over  what  he  termed 
Hayne's  conceited  and  supercilious  manner  when  returning  his  call : 
"  I  called  upon  him  like  a  gentleman,  by  thunder,  just  to  let  him 
understand  I  wanted  to  help  him  out  of  the  mire,  and  told  him  if  there 
was  anything  I  could  do  for  him  that  a  gentleman  could  do,  not  to 
hesitate  about  letting  me  know  ;  and  when  he  came  to  my  house  to-day, 
damned  if  he  didn't  patronize  me  ! — talked  to  me  about  the  Plevna  siege, 
and  wanted  to  discuss  Gourko  and  the  Balkans  or  some  other  fool  thing : 
what  in  thunder  have  I  to  do  with  campaigns  in  Turkey  ? — and  I  thought 
he  meant  those  nigger  soldiers  the  British  have  in  India, — Goorkhas, 
I  know  now, — and  I  did  tell  him  it  was  an  awful  blunder,  that  only  a 
Russian  would  make,  to  take  those  Sepoy  fellows  and  put  'em  into  a 
winter  campaign.  Of  course  I  hadn't  been  booking  up  the  subject,  and 
he  had,  and  sprung  it  on  me ;  and  then,  by  gad,  as  he  was  going,  he  said 
he  had  books  and  maps  he  would  lend  me,  and  if  there  was  anything  he 
could  do  for  me  that  a  gentleman  couJd  do,  not  to  hesitate  about  asking. 
Damn  his  impudence !" 

Poor  Buxton  !  One  of  his  idiosyncrasies  was  to  talk  wisely  to  the 
juniors  on  the  subject  of  European  campaigns  and  to  criticise  the  moves 
of  generals  whose  very  names  and  centuries  were  entangling  snares. 
His  own  subalterns  were,  unfortunately  for  him,  at  the  house  when 
Hayne  called,  and  when  he,  as  was  his  wont,  began  to  expound  on 
current  military  topics.  "A  little  learning,"  even,  he  had  not,  and  the 
dangerous  thing  that  that  would  have  been  was  supplanted  by  some- 
thing quite  as  bad,  if  not  worse.  He  was  trapped  and  thrown  by  the 
quiet-mannered  infantry  subaltern,  and  it  was  all  Messrs.  Freeman  and 
Royce  could  do  to  restrain  their  impulse  to  rush  after  Hayne  and 


tf8  THE  DESERTER, 

embrace  him.  Buxton  was  cordially  detested  by  his  "  subs,"  and  well 
knew  they  would  tell  the  story  of  his  defeat,  so  he  made  a  virtue  of 
necessity  and  came  out  with  his  own  version.  Theirs  was  far  more 
ludicrous,  and,  while  it  made  Mr.  Hayne  famous,  he  gained  another 
enemy.  The  — th  could  not  fail  to  notice  how  soon  after  that  all 
social  recognition  ceased  between  their  bulky  captain  and  the  pale, 
slender  subaltern ;  and  Mrs.  Buxton  and  Mrs.  Rayner  became  suddenly 
infatuated  with  each  other,  while  their  lords  were  seldom  seen  except 
together. 

All  this  time,  however,  Miss  Travers  was  making  friends  through- 
out the  garrison.  No  one  ever  presumed  to  discuss  the  Hayne  affair  in 
her  presence,  because  of  her  relationship  to  the  Rayners ;  and  yet  Mrs. 
Waldron  had  told  several  people  how  delightfully  she  and  Mr.  Hayne 
had  spent  an  afternoon  together.  Did  not  Mrs.  Rayner  declare  that  Mrs. 
Waldron  was  a  woman  who  told  everything  she  knew,  or  words  to  that 
effect?  It  is  safe  to  say  that  the  garrison  was  greatly  interested  in  the 
story.  How  strange  it  was  that  he  should  have  had  a  ttte-ci-ttte  with 
the  sister  of  his  bitterest  foe!  When  did  they  meet?  Had  they  met 
since?  Would  they  meet  again?  All  these  were  questions  eagerly 
discussed,  yet  never  asked  of  the  parties  themselves,  Mr.  Hayne's  repu- 
tation for  snubbing  people  standing  him  in  excellent  stead,  and  Miss 
Travers's  quiet  dignity  and  reserve  of  manner  being  too  much  for  those 
who  would  have  given  a  good  deal  to  gain  her  confidence.  But  there 
was  Mrs.  Rayner.  She,  at  least,  with  all  her  high  and  mighty  ways, 
was  no  unapproachable  creature  when  it  came  to  finding  out  what  she 
thought  of  other  people's  conduct.  So  half  a  dozen,  at  least,  had  more 
or  less  confidentially  asked  if  she  knew  of  Mr.  Hayne  and  Miss 
Travers's  meeting.  Indeed  she  did !  and  she  had  given  Nellie  her 
opinion  of  her  conduct  very  decidedly.  It  was  Captain  Rayner  him- 
self who  interposed,  she  said,  and  forbade  her  upbraiding  Nellie  any 
further.  Nellie  being  either  in  an  adjoining  room  or  up  in  her  own 
on  several  occasions  when  these  queries  were  propounded  to  her  sister, 
it  goes  without  saying  that  that  estimable  woman,  after  the  manner 
of  her  sex,  had  elevated  her  voice  in  responding,  so  that  there  was 
no  possibility  of  the  wicked  girl's  failing  to  get  the  full  benefit  of 
the  scourging  she  deserved.  Rayner  had,  indeed,  positively  forbidden 
her  further  rebuking  Nellie ;  but  the  man  does  not  live  who  can  prevent 
one  woman's  punishing  another  so  long  as  she  can  get  within  earshot, 
and  Miss  Travers  was  paying  dearly  for  her  independence. 


THE  DESERTER.  99 

It  cannot  be  estimated  just  how  great  a  disappointment  her  visit  to 
the  frontier  was  proving  to  that  young  lady,  simply  because  she  kept 
her  own  counsel.  There  were  women  in  the  garrison  who  longed  to 
take  her  to  their  hearts  and  homes,  she  was  so  fresh  and  pure  and  sweet 
and  winning,  they  said ;  but  how  could  they,  when  her  sister  would 
recognize  them  only  by  the  coldest  possible  nod?  Nellie  was  not 
happy,  that  was  certain,  though  she  made  no  complaint,  and  though 
the  young  officers  who  were  daily  her  devotees  declared  she  was  bright 
and  attractive  as  she  could  be.  There  were  still  frequent  dances  and 
parties  in  the  garrison,  but  March  was  nearly  spent,  and  the  weather 
had  been  so  vile  and  blustering  that  they  could  not  move  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  post.  April  might  bring  a  change  for  the  better  in  the 
weather,  but  Miss  Travers  wondered  how  it  could  better  her  position. 

It  is  hard  for  a  woman  of  spirit  to  be  materially  dependent  on  any 
one,  and  Miss  Travers  was  virtually  dependent  on  her  brother-in-law. 
The  little  share  of  her  father's  hard  savings  was  spent  on  her  education. 
Once  free  from  school,  she  was  bound  to  another  apprenticeship,  and 
sister  Kate,  though  indulgent,  fond,  and  proud,  lost  no  opportunity  of 
telling  her  how  much  she  owed  to  Captain  Rayner.  It  got  to  be  a 
fearful  weight  before  the  first  summer  was  well  over.  It  was  the  main 
secret  of  her  acceptance  of  Mr.  Van  Antwerp.  And  now,  until  she 
would  consent  to  name  the  day  that  should  bind  her  for  life  to  him, 
she  had  no  home  but  such  as  Kate  Rayner  could  offer  her ;  and  Kate 
was  bitterly  offended  at  her.  There  was  just  one  chance  to  end  it  now 
and  forever,  and  to  relieve  her  sister  and  the  captain  of  the  burden  of 
her  support.  Could  she  make  up  her  mind  to  do  it  ?  And  Mr.  Van 
Antwerp  offered  the  opportunity. 

So  far  from  breaking  with  her,  as  she  half  expected, — so  far  from 
being  even  angry  and  reproachful  on  receiving  the  letter  she  had  written 
telling  him  all  about  her  meetings  with  Mr.  Hayne, — he  had  written 
again  and  again,  reproaching  himself  for  his  doubts  and  fears,  begging 
her  forgiveness  for  having  written  and  telegraphed  to  Kate,  humbling 
himself  before  her  in  the  most  abject  way,  and  imploring  her  to  recon- 
sider her  determination  and  to  let  him  write  to  Captain  and  Mrs.  Ray- 
ner to  return  to  their  Eastern  home  at  once,  that  the  marriage  might 
take  place  forthwith  and  he  could  bear  her  away  to  Europe  in  May. 
Letter  after  letter  came,  eager,  imploring,  full  of  tenderest  love  and 
devotion,  full  of  the  saddest  apprehension,  never  reproaching,  never 
doubting,  never  commanding  or  restraining.  The  man  had  found  the 


100  THE  DESERTER. 

way  to  touch  a  woman  of  her  generous  nature  :  he  had  left  all  to  her ; 
he  was  at  her  mercy ;  and  she  knew  well  that  he  loved  her  fervently 
and  that  to  lose  her  would  wellnigh  break  his  heart.  Could  she  say 
the  word  and  be  free  ?  Surely,  as  this  man's  wife  there  would  be  no 
serfdom ;  and,  yet,  could  she  wed  a  man  for  whom  she  felt  no  spark  of 
love? 

They  went  down  to  the  creek  one  fine  morning  early  in  April. 
There  had  been  a  sudden  thaw  of  the  snows  up  the  gorges  of  the 
Rockies,  and  the  stream  had  overleaped  its  banks,  spread  over  the  low- 
lands, and  flooded  some  broad  depressions  in  the  prairie.  Then,  capri- 
cious as  a  woman's  moods,  the  wind  whistled  around  from  the  north 
one  night  and  bound  the  lakelets  in  a  band  of  ice.  The  skating  was 
gorgeous,  and  all  the  pretty  ankles  on  the  post  were  rejoicing  in  the 
opportunity  before  the  setting  of  another  sun.  Coming  homeward  at 
luncheon-time,  Mrs.  Rayner,  Mrs.  Buxton,  Miss  Travers,  and  one  or 
*wo  others,  escorted  by  a  squad  of  bachelors,  strolled  somewhat  slowly 
along  Prairie  Avenue  towards  the  gate.  It  so  happened  that  the 
married  ladies  were  foremost  in  the  little  party,  when  who  should 
meet  them  but  Mr.  Hayne,  coming  from  the  east  gate  !  Mrs.  Rayner 
and  Mrs.  Buxton,  though  passing  him  almost  elbow  to  elbow,  looked 
straight  ahead  or  otherwise  avoided  his  eye.  He  raised  his  forage-cap 
in  general  acknowledgment  of  the  presence  of  ladies  with  the  officers, 
but  glanced  coldly  from  one  to  the  other  until  his  blue  eyes  lighted  on 
Miss  Travers.  No  woman  in  that  group  could  fail  to  note  the  leap 
of  sunshine  and  gladness  to  his  face,  the  instant  flush  that  rose  to 
his  cheek.  Miss  Travers,  herself,  saw  it  quickly,  as  did  the  maiden 
walking  just  behind  her,  and  her  heart  bounded  at  the  sight.  She  bowed 
as  their  eyes  met,  spoke  his  name  in  low  tone,  and  strove  to  hide  her 
face  from  Mr.  Blake,  who  turned  completely  around  and  stole  a  sudden 
glance  at  her.  She  could  no  more  account  for  than  she  could  control 
it,  but  her  face  was  burning.  Mrs.  Rayner,  too,  looked  around  and 
stared  at  her,  but  this  she  met  firmly,  her  dark  eyes  never  quailing 
before  the  angry  glare  in  her  sister's.  Blake  was  beginning  to  like 
Hayne  and  to  dislike  Mrs.  Rayner,  and  he  always  did  like  mischief. 

"You  owe  me  a  grudge,  Miss  Travers,  if  you  did  but  know  it," 
he  said,  so  that  all  could  hear. 

"  You,  Mr.  Blake  !     How  can  that  be  possible  ?" 

"  I  spoiled  a  serenade  for  you  a  few  nights  ago.  I  was  officer  of 
the  day,  and  caught  sight  of  a  man  gazing  up  at  your  window  after 


THE  DESERTER.  101 

midnight.  I  felt  sure  he  was  going  to  sing :  so,  like  a  good  fellow,  1 
ran  over  to  play  an  accompaniment,  and  then — would  you  believe  it? 
— he  wouldn't  sing,  after  all." 

She  was  white  now.  Her  eyes  were  gazing  almost  imploringly  at 
him.  Something  warned  him  to  hold  his  peace,  and  he  broke  off 
short. 

"  Who  was  it?  Oh,  do  tell  us,  Mr.  Blake  I"  were  the  exclamations, 
Mrs.  Rayner  being  most  impetuous  in  her  demands.  Again  Blake 
caught  the  appeal  in  Miss  Travers's  eyes. 

"That's  what  I  want  to  know,"  he  responded,  mendaciously. 
"  When  I  woke  up  next  morning,  the  whole  thing  was  a  dream,  and 
I  couldn't  fix  the  fellow  at  all." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  disappointment  and  indignation.  The  idea 
of  spoiling  such  a  gem  of  a  sensation  !  But  Blake  took  it  all  com- 
placently, until  he  got  home.  Then  it  began  to  worry  him. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  knew  he  was  there  ? 

That  night  there  was  a  disturbance  in  the  garrison.  Just  after  ten 
o'clock,  and  while  the  sentries  were  calling  off  the  hour,  a  woman's 
shrieks  and  cries  were  heard  over  behind  the  quarters  of  Company  B 
and  close  to  the  cottage  occupied  by  Lieutenant  Hayne.  The  officers 
of  the  guard  ran  to  the  spot  with  several  men,  and  found  Private  Clancy 
struggling  and  swearing  in  the  grasp  of  two  or  three  soldiers,  while  Mrs. 
Clancy  was  imploring  them  not  to  let  him  go,  he  was  wild-like  again ;  it 
was  drink ;  he  had  the  horrors,  and  was  batin'  her  while  she  was  tryin' 
to  get  him  home.  And  Clancy's  appearance  bore  out  her  words.  He 
was  wild  and  drunken  ;  but  he  swore  he  meant  no  harm  ;  he  struggled 
hard  for  freedom ;  he  vowed  he  only  wanted  to  see  the  lieutenant  at  his 
quarters ;  and  Mr.  Hayne,  lamp  in  hand,  had  come  upon  the  scene,  and 
was  striving  to  quiet  the  woman,  who  only  screamed  and  protested  the 
louder.  At  his  quiet  order  the  soldiers  released  Clancy,  and  the  man 
stood  patient  and  subordinate. 

"  Did  you  want  to  see  me,  Clancy  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hayne. 

"  Askin'  yer  pardon,  sir,  I  did,"  began  the  man,  unsteadily,  and 
evidently  struggling  with  the  fumes  of  the  liquor  he  had  been  drinking ; 
but  before  he  could  speak  again,  Mrs.  Clancy's  shrieks  rang  out  on  the 
still  air : 

"  Oh,  for  the  love  of  God,  howld  him,  some  o'  ye's !  He'll  kill 
him  !  He's  mad,  I  say  !  Shure  'tis  I  that  know  him  best.  Oh. 
blessed  Vargin,  save  us  !  Don't  let  him  loose,  Misther  Foster  !"  she 


102  THE  DESERTER. 

Bcreamed  to  the  officer  of  the  guard,  who  at  that  moment  appeared  on 
the  full  run. 

"  What's  the  trouble  ?"  he  asked,  breathlessly. 

"  Clancy  seems  to  have  been  drinking,  and  wants  to  talk  with  me 
about  something,  Mr.  Foster,"  said  Hayne,  quietly.  "  He  belongs  to 
my  company,  and  I  will  be  responsible  that  he  goes  home.  It  is  really 
Mrs.  Clancy  that  is  making  all  the  trouble." 

"  Oh,  for  the  love  of  God,  hear  him,  now,  whin  the  man  was  tearin' 
the  hair  o'  me  this  minute  !  Oh,  howld  him,  men  !  Shure  'tis  Captain 
Rayner  wud  niver  let  him  go." 

"  What's  the  matter,  Mrs.  Clancy  ?"  spoke  a  quick,  stern  voice,  and 
Rayner,  with  face  white  as  a  sheet,  suddenly  stood  in  their  midst. 

"  Oh,  God  be  praised,  it's  here  ye  are,  captin  !  Shure  it's  Clancy, 
sir,  dhrunk,  sir,  and  runnin'  round  the  garrison,  and  batin'  me,  sir." 

"  Take  him  to  the  guard-house,  Mr.  Foster,"  was  the  stern,  sudden 
order.  "  Not  a  word,  Clancy,"  as  the  man  strove  to  speak.  "  Off 
with  him ;  and  if  he  gives  you  any  trouble,  send  for  me." 

And  as  the  poor  fellow  was  led  away,  silence  fell  upon  the  group. 
Mrs.  Clancy  began  a  wail  of  mingled  relief  and  misery,  which  the  cap- 
tain ordered  her  to  cease  and  go  home.  More  men  came  hurrying  to 
the  spot,  and  presently  the  officer  of  the  day.  "  It  is  all  right  now," 
said  Rayner  to  the  latter.  "  One  of  my  men — Clancy — was  out  here 
drunk  and  raising  a  row.  I  have  sent  him  to  the  guard-house.  Go 
back  to  your  quarters,  men.  Come,  captain,  will  you  walk  over  home 
with  me?" 

"  Was  Mr.  Hayne  here  when  the  row  occurred  ?"  asked  the  cavalry- 
man, looking  as  though  he  wanted  to  hear  something  from  the  young 
officer  who  stood  a  silent  witness. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Rayner.  "  It  makes  no  difference,  captain. 
It  is  not  a  case  of  witnesses.  I  shan't  prefer  charges  against  the  man. 
Come  !"  And  he  drew  him  hastily  away. 

Hayne  stood  watching  them  as  they  disappeared  beyond  the  glimmer 
of  his  lamp.  Then  a  hand  was  placed  on  his  arm  : 

"  Did  you  notice  Captain  Rayner's  face, — his  lips  ?  He  was  ashen 
as  death." 

"  Come  hi  here  with  me,"  was  the  reply ;  and,  turning,  Hayne  lei 
the  post  surgeon  into  the  house. 


THE  DESERTER.  103 


XII. 

There  was  an  unusual  scene  at  the  matinte  the  following  morning. 
When  Captain  Ray  relieved  Captain  Gregg  as  officer  of  the  day,  and 
the  two  were  visiting  the  guard-house  and  turning  over  prisoners,  they 
came  upon  the  last  name  on  the  list, — Clancy, — and  Gregg  turned  to 
his  regimental  comrade  and  said, — 

"No  charges  are  preferred  against  Clancy,  at  least  none  as  yet, 
Captain  Ray ;  but  his  company  commander  requests  that  he  be  held 
here  until  he  can  talk  over  his  case  with  the  colonel." 

"What's  he  in  for?"  demanded  Captain  Ray. 

"  Getting  drank  and  raising  a  row  and  beating  his  wife,"  answered 
Gregg ;  whereat  there  was  a  titter  among  the  soldiers. 

"  I  never  shtruck  a  woman  in  me  life,  sir,"  said  poor  Clancy. 

"  Silence,  Clancy  !"  ordered  the  sergeant  of  the  guard. 

"  No,  I'm  blessed  if  I  believe  that  part  of  it,  Clancy,  drunk  or  no 
drunk,"  said  the  new  officer  of  the  day. — "  Take  charge  of  him  for  the 
present,  sergeant."  And  away  they  went  to  the  office. 

Captain  Rayner  was  in  conversation  with  the  commanding  officer 
as  they  entered,  and  the  colonel  was  saying, — 

"  It  is  not  the  proper  way  to  handle  the  case,  captain.  If  he  has 
been  guilty  of  drunkenness  and  disorderly  conduct  he  should  be  brought 
to  trial  at  once." 

"  I  admit  that,  sir ;  but  the  case  is  peculiar.  It  was  Mrs.  Clancy  that 
made  all  the  noise.  I  feel  sure  that  after  he  is  perfectly  sober  I  can 
give  him  such  a  talking-to  as  will  put  a  stop  to  this  trouble." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  I  am  willing  to  let  company  commanders  experi- 
ment at  least  once  or  twice  on  their  theories,  so  you  can  try  the  scheme ; 
but  we  of  the  — th  have  had  some  years  of  experience  with  the  Clancys, 
and  were  not  a  little  amused  when  they  turned  up  again  in  our  midst  as 
accredited  members  of  your  company." 

"  Then,  as  I  understand  you,  colonel,  Clancy  is  not  to  be  brought  to 
trial  for  this  affair,"  suddenly  spoke  the  post  surgeon. 

Everybody  looked  up  in  surprise.  "  Pills"  was  the  last  man, 
ordinarily,  to  take  a  hand  in  the  "  shop  talk"  at  the  morning  meetings. 

"  No*  doctor.     His  captain  thinks  it  unnecessary  to  prefer  charges." 

"  So  do  I,  sir ;  and,  as  I  saw  the  man  both  before  and  after  hia 


104  THE  DESERTER. 

confinement  last  night,  I  do  not  think  it  was  necessary  to  confine 
him." 

"  The  officer  of  the  day  says  there  was  great  disorder,"  said  the 
colonel,  in  surprise. 

"  Ay,  sir,  so  there  was ;  and  the  thing  reminds  me  of  the  stories 
they  used  to  tell  on  the  New  York  police.  It  looked  to  me  as  though  all 
the  row  was  raised  by  Mrs.  Clancy,  as  Captain  Rayner  says ;  but  the 
man  was  arrested.  That  being  the  case,  I  would  ask  the  captain  for 
what  specific  offence  he  ordered  Clancy  to  the  guard-house." 

Rayner  again  was  pale  as  death.  He  glared  at  the  doctor  in  amaze 
and  incredulity,  while  all  the  officers  noted  his  agitation  and  were  silent 
in  surprise.  It  was  the  colonel  that  came  to  the  rescue : 

"  Captain  Rayner  had  abundant  reason,  doctor.  It  was  after  taps, 
though  only  just  after,  and,  whether  causing  the  trouble  or  not,  the  man 
is  the  responsible  party,  not  the  woman.  The  captain  was  right  in  causing 
his  arrest." 

Rayner  looked  up  gratefully. 

"  I  submit  to  your  decision,  sir,"  said  the  surgeon,  "  and  I  apologize 
for  anything  I  may  have  asked  that  was  beyond  my  province.  Now  I 
wish  to  ask  a  question  for  my  own  guidance." 

"  Go  on,  doctor." 

"  In  case  an  enlisted  man  of  this  command  desire  to  see  an  officer  of 
his  company, — or  any  other  officer,  for  that  matter, — is  it  a  violation  of 
any  military  regulation  for  him  to  go  to  his  quarters  for  that  purpose  ?" 

Again  was  Rayner  fearfully  white  and  aged-looking.  His  lips 
moved  as  though  he  would  interrupt ;  but  discipline  prevailed. 

"  No,  doctor ;  and  yet  we  have  certain  customs  of  service  to  prevent 
the  men  going  at  all  manner  of  hours  and  on  frivolous  errands  :  a  soldier 
asks  his  first  sergeant's  permission  first,  and  if  denied  by  him,  and  he 
have  what  he  considers  good  reason,  he  can  report  the  whole  case." 

"  But  suppose  a  man  is  not  on  company  duty  :  must  he  hunt  up  his 
Irst  sergeant  and  ask  permission  to  go  and  see  some  officer  with  whom 
he  has  business  ?" 

"  Well,  hardly,  in  that  case." 

"  That's  all,  sir."    And  the  doctor  subsided. 

Among  all  the  officers,  as  the  meeting  adjourned,  the  question  was, 
' "  What  do  you  suppose  '  Pills'  was  driving  at  ?" 

There  were  two  or  three  who  knew.  Captain  Rayner  went  first  to 
his  quarters,  where  he  had  a  few  moments'  hurried  consultation  with 


THE  DESERTER.  105 

his  wife ;  then  they  left  the  house  together, — he  to  have  a  low-toned 
and  very  stern  talk  to  rather  than  with  the  abashed  Clancy,  who  listened 
cap  in  hand  and  with  hanging  head ;  she  to  visit  the  sick  child  of  Mrs. 
Flanigan,  of  Company  K,  whose  quarters  adjoined  those  to  which  the 
Clancys  had  recently  been  assigned.  When  that  Hibernian  culprit 
returned  to  his  roof-tree,  released  from  durance  vile,  he  was  surprised 
to  receive  a  kindly  and  sympathetic  welcome  from  his  captain's  wife, 
who  with  her  own  hand  had  mixed  him  some  comforting  drink  and 
was  planning  with  Mrs.  Clancv  for  their  greater  comfort.  "  If  Clancy 
will  only  promise  to  quit  entirely !"  interjected  the  partner  of  his  joys 
and  sorrows. 

Later  that  day,  when  the  doctor  had  a  little  talk  with  Clancy,  the 
ex-dragoon  declared  he  was  going  to  reform  for  all  he  was  worth.  He 
was  only  a  distress  to  everybody  when  he  drank. 

"  All  right,  Clancy.  And  when  you  are  perfectly  yourself  you  can 
come  and  see  Lieutenant  Hayne  as  soon  as  you  like." 

"  Loot'nant  Hayne  is  it,  sir?  Shure  I'd  be  beggin'  his  pardon  for 
the  vexation  I  gave  him  last  night." 

"  But  you  have  something  you  wanted  to  speak  with  him  about. 
You  said  so  last  night,  Clancy,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  him  squarely 
in  the  eye. 

"  Shure  I  was  dhrunk,  sir.  I  didn't  mane  it,"  he  answered  ;  but 
he  shrank  and  cowered, 

The  doctor  turned  and  left  him. 

"  If  it's  only  when  he's  drunk  that  conscience  pricks  him  and  the 
truth  will  out,  then  we  must  have  him  diunk  again,"  quoth  this  un- 
principled practitioner. 

That  same  afternoon  Miss  Travers  found  that  a  headache  was  the 
result  of  confinement  to  an  atmosphere  somewhat  heavily  charged  with 
electricity.  Mrs.  Rayner  seemed  to  bristle  every  time  she  approached 
her  sister.  Possibly  it  was  the  heart,  more  than  the  head,  that  ached, 
but  in  either  case  she  needed  relief  from  the  exposed  position  she  had 
occupied  ever  since  Kate's  return  from  the  Clancys'  in  the  morning. 
She  had  been  too  long  under  fire,  and  was  wearied.  Even  the  cheery 
visits  of  the  garrison  gallants  had  proved  of  little  avail,  for  Mrs. 
Rayner  was  in  very  ill  temper,  and  made  snappish  remarks  to  them 
which  two  of  them  resented  and  speedily  took  themselves  off.  Later 
Miss  Travers  went  to  her  room  and  wrote  a  letter,  and  then  the  sunset 
gun  shook  the  window,  and  twilight  settled  down  upon  the  still  frozen 
E* 


106  THE  DESERTER. 

earth.  She  bathed  her  heated  forehead  and  flushed  cheeks,  threw  a 
warm  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  and  came  slowly  down  the  stairs.  Mrs. 
Rayner  met  her  at  the  parlor  door. 

"  Kate,  I  am  going  for  a  walk,  and  shall  stop  and  see  Mrs.  Waldron." 

"  Quite  an  unnecessary  piece  of  information.  I  saw  him  as  well  as 
you.  He  has  just  gone  there." 

Miss  Travers  flushed  hot  with  indignation : 

"  I  have  seen  no  one ;  and  if  you  mean  that  Mr.  Hayne  has  gone 
to  Major  Waldron's,  I  shall  not." 

"  No :  I'd  meet  him  on  the  walk :  it  would  only  be  a  trifle  more 
public." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  accuse  me  of  the  faintest  expectation  of 
meeting  him  anywhere.  I  repeat,  I  had  not  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

"  You  might  just  as  well  do  it.  You  cannot  make  your  antagonism 
to  my  husband  much  more  pointed  than  you  have  already.  And  as 
for  meeting  Mr.  Hayne,  the  only  advice  I  presume  to  give  now  is  that 
for  your  own  sake  you  keep  your  blushes  under  better  control  than 
you  did  the  last  time  you  met — that  I  know  of."  And,  with  this 
triumphant  insult  as  a  parting  shot,  Mrs.  Rayner  wheeled  and  marched 
off  through  the  parlor. 

What  was  a  girl  to  do?  Nellie  Travers  was  not  of  the  crying 
kind,  and  was  denied  a  vast  amount  of  comfort  in  consequence.  She 
stood  a  few  moments  quivering  under  the  lash  of  injustice  and  insult 
to  which  she  had  been  subjected.  She  longed  for  a  breath  of  pure, 
fresh  air ;  but  there  would  be  no  enjoyment  even  in  that  now.  She 
needed  sympathy  and  help,  if  ever  girl  did,  but  where  was  she  to  find 
it?  The  women  who  most  attracted  her  and  who  would  have  warmly 
welcomed  her  at  any  time — the  women  whom  she  would  eagerly  have 
gone  to  in  her  trouble — were  practically  denied  to  her.  Mrs.  Rayner 
in  her  quarrel  had  declared  war  against  the  cavalry,  and  Mrs.  Stannard 
and  Mrs.  Ray,  who  had  shown  a  disposition  to  welcome  Nellie  warmly, 
were  no  longer  callers  at  the  house.  Mrs.  Waldron,  who  was  kind 
and  motherly  to  the  girl  and  loved  to  have  her  with  her,  was  so  embar- 
rassed by  Mrs.  Rayner's  determined  snubs  that  she  hardly  knew  how 
to  treat  the  matter.  She  would  no  longer  visit  Mrs.  Rayner  informally, 
as  had  been  her  custom,  yet  she  wanted  the  girl  to  come  to  her.  If 
she  went,  Miss  Travers  well  knew  that  on  her  return  to  the  house  she 
would  be  received  by  a  volley  of  sarcasms  about  her  preference  for  the 
society  of  people  who  were  the  avowed  enemies  of  her  benefactors.  If 


THE  DESERTER.  107 

she  remained  in  the  house,  it  was  to  become  in  person  the  target  for  her 
sister's  undeserved  sneers  and  censure.  The  situation  was  becoming 
simply  unbearable.  Twice  she  began  and  twice  she  tore  to  fragments 
the  letter  for  which  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  was  daily  imploring,  and  this 
evening  she  once  more  turned  and  slowly  sought  her  room,  threw  off 
her  wraps,  and  took  up  her  writing-desk.  It  was  not  yet  dark.  Thert 
was  still  light  enough  for  her  purpose,  if  she  went  close  to  the  window. 
Every  nerve  was  tingling  with  the  sense  of  wrong  and  ignominy : 
every  throb  of  her  heart  but  intensified  the  longing  for  relief  from  the 
thraldom  of  her  position.  She  saw  only  one  path  to  lead  her  from 
Buch  crushing  dependence.  There  was  his  last  letter,  received  only 
that  day,  urging,  imploring  her  to  leave  Warrener  forthwith.  Mrs. 
Rayner  had  declared  to  him  her  readiness  to  bring  her  East  provided 
ehe  would  fix  an  early  date  for  the  wedding.  Was  it  not  a  future 
many  a  girl  might  envy?  Was  he  not  tender,  faithful,  patient,  de- 
voted as  man  could  be?  Had  he  not  social  position  and  competence? 
Was  he  not  high-bred,  courteous,  refined, — a  gentleman  in  all  his  acts 
and  words  ?  Why  could  she  not  love  him,  and  be  content  ?  There 
on  the  desk  lay  a  little  scrap  of  note-paper ;  there  lay  her  pen  ;  a  dozen 
words  only  were  necessary.  One  moment  she  gazed  longingly,  wist- 
fully, at  the  far-away,  darkening  heights  of  the  Rockies,  watching  the 
last  rose-tinted  gleams  on  the  snowy  peaks  j  then  with  sudden  impulse 
she  seized  her  pen  and  drew  the  portfolio  to  the  window-seat.  As  she 
did  so,  a  soldierly  figure  came  briskly  down  the  walk ;  a  pale,  clear- 
cut  face  glanced  up  at  her  casement ;  a  quick  light  of  recognition  and 
pleasure  flashed  in  his  eyes ;  the  little  forage-cap  was  raised  with  cour- 
teous grace,  though  the  step  never  slackened,  and  Miss  Travers  felt 
that  her  cheek,  too,  was  flushing  again,  as  Mr.  Hayne  strode  rapidly 

by.  She  stood  there  another  moment,  and  then it  had  grown  too 

dark  to  write. 

When  Mrs.  Rayner,  after  calling  twice  from  the  bottom  of  the 
<stairs,  finally  went  up  into  her  room  and  impatiently  pushed  open  the 
door,  all  was  darkness  except  the  glimmer  from  the  hearth : 

"  Nellie,  where  are  you  ?" 

"  Here,"  answered  Miss  Travers,  starting  up  from  the  sofa.  "  I 
think  I  must  have  been  asleep." 

"  Your  head  is  hot  as  fire,"  said  her  sister,  laying  her  firm  white 
hand  upon  the  burning  forehead.  "  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  be 


108  THE  DESERTER. 

downright  ill,  by  ^ay  of  diversion.  Just  understand  one  thing,  Nellie : 
that  doctor  does  not  come  into  my  house." 

"What  doctor?— not  that  I  want  one,"  asked  Miss  Travers, 
wearily. 

"  Dr.  Pease,  the  post  surgeon,  I  mean.  Of  course  you  have  heard 
how  he  is  mixing  himself  in  my  husband's  affairs  and  making  trouble 
with  various  people." 

"  I  have  heard  nothing,  Kate." 

"  I  don't  wonder  your  friends  are  ashamed  to  tell  you.  Things  have 
come  to  a  pretty  pass,  when  officers  are  going  around  holding  private 
meetings  with  enlisted  men  !" 

"  I  hardly  know  the  doctor  at  all,  Kate,  and  cannot  imagine  what 
affairs  of  your  husband's  he  can  interfere  with." 

"  It  was  he  that  put  up  Clancy  to  making  the  disturbance  at  Mr. 
Hayne's  last  night  and  getting  into  the  guard-house,  and  tried  to  prove 
that  he  had  a  right  to  go  there  and  that  the  captain  had  no  right  to 
arrest  him." 

"Was  Clancy  trying  to  see  Mr.  Hayne?"  asked  Miss  Travers, 
quickly. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?"  said  her  sister,  pettishly.  "  He  was  drunk, 
and  probably  didn't  know  what  he  was  doing." 

"And  Captain  Rayner  arrested  him  for — for  trying  to  see  Mr. 
Hayne?" 

"  Captain  Rayner  arrested  him  for  being  drunk  and  creating  a  dis- 
turbance, as  it  was  his  duty  to  arrest  any  soldier  under  such  circum- 
stances," replied  her  sister,  with  majestic  wrath,  "  and  I  will  not  tolerate 
it  that  you  should  criticise  his  conduct." 

"  I  have  made  no  criticism,  Kate.  I  have  simply  made  inquiry  j 
but  I  have  learned  what  no  one  else  could  have  made  me  believe." 

"  Nellie  Travers,  be  careful  what  you  say,  or  what  you  insinuate. 
What  do  you  mean  ?" 

'  "  I  mean,  Kate,  that  it  is  my  belief  that  there  is  something  at  the 
bottom  of  those  stories  of  Clancy's  strange  talk  when  in  the  hospital. 
I  believe  he  thinks  he  knows  something  which  would  turn  all  suspicion 
from  Mr.  Hayne  to  a  totally  different  man.  I  believe  that,  for  reasons 
which  I  cannot  fathom,  you  are  determined  Mr.  Hayne  shall  not  see 
him  or  hear  of  it.  It  was  you  that  sent  Captain  Rayner  over  there 
tat  night.  Mrs.  Clancy  came  here  at  tattoo,  and,  from  the  time  she 
left,  you  were  at  the  front  door  or  window.  You  were  the  first  to  heat 


THE  DESERTER.  109 

her  cries,  and  came  running  in  to  tell  the  captain  t)  go  at  once.  Kate, 
why  did  you  stand  there  listening  from  the  time  she  left  the  kitchen, 
unless  you  expected  to  hear  just  what  happened  over  there  behind  the 
company  barracks?" 

Mrs.  Rayner  would  give  no  answer.  Anger,  rage,  retaliation,  all 
in  turn  were  pictured  on  her  furious  face,  but  died  away  before  the 
calm  and  unconquerable  gaze  in  her  sister's  eyes.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  life  Kate  Rayner  realized  that  her  "  baby  Nell"  had  the  stronger 
will  of  the  two.  For  one  instant  she  contemplated  vengeance.  A 
torrent  of  invective  leaped  readily  to  her  lips.  "  Outrage,"  "  ingrate," 
"insult,"  were  the  first  three  distinguishable  epithets  applied  to  her 
sister  or  her  sister's  words ;  then,  "  See  if  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  will  tolerate 
such  conduct.  I'll  write  this  very  day,"  was  the  impotent  threat  that 
followed ;  and  finally,  utterly  defeated,  thoroughly  convinced  that  she 
was  powerless  against  her  sister's  reckless  love  of  "  fair  play  at  any 
price,"  she  felt  that  her  wrath  was  'giving  way  to  dismay,  and  turned 
and  fled,  lest  Nellie  should  see  the  flag  of  surrender  on  her  paling  cheeks. 

XIII. 

Two  nights  after  this,  as  Captain  Buxton  was  sulkily  going  the 
rounds  of  the  sentries  he  made  a  discovery  which  greatly  enlivened  an 
otherwise  uneventful  tour  as  officer  of  the  day.  It  had  been  his  general 
custom  on  such  occasions  to  take  the  shortest  way  across  the  parade  to 
the  guard-house,  make  brief  and  perfunctory  inspection  there,  then  go 
on  down  the  hill  to  the  creek  valley  and  successively  visit  the  sentries 
around  the  stables.  If  the  night  were  wet  or  cold,  he  went  back  the 
same  way,  ignoring  the  sentries  at  the  coal-  and  store-sheds  along 
Prairie  Avenue.  This  was  a  sharply  cold  night,  and  very  dark,  but 
equally  still.  It  was  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock — nearer  one  than 
twelve — as  he  climbed  the  hill  on  his  homeward  way,  and,  instead  of 
taking  the  short  cut,  turned  northward  and  struck  for  the  gloomy  mass 
of  sheds  dimly  discernible  some  forty  yards  from  the  crest.  He  had 
heard  other  officers  speak  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Hayne's  lights  were 
burning  until  long  after  midnight,  and  that,  dropping  in  there,  they  had 
found  him  seated  at  his  desk  with  a  green  shade  over  his  eyes,  studying 
•  by  the  aid  of  two  student-lamps ;  "  boning  to  be  a  general,  probably," 
was  the  comment  of  captains  of  Buxton's  calibre,  who,  having  grown 
old  in  the  service  and  in  their  own  ignorance,  were  fiercely  intolerant  of 

]0 


110  THE  DESERTER. 

lieutenants  who  strove  to  improve  in  professional  reading  instead  of 
spending  their  time  making  out  the  company  muster-rolls  and  clothing- 
accounts,  as  they  should  do.  Buxton  wanted  to  see  for  himself  what 
the  night-lights  meant,  and  was  plunging  heavily  ahead  through  the 
darkness,  when  suddenly  brought  to  a  stand  by  the  sharp  challenge  of 
the  sentry  at  the  coal-shed.  He  whispered  the  mystic  countersign  over 
the  levelled  bayonet  of  the  infantryman,  swearing  to  himself  at  the 
regulation  which  puts  an  officer  in  such  a  "  stand-and-deliver"  attitude 
for  the  time  being,  and  then,  by  way  of  getting  square  with  the  soldier 
for  the  sharply  military  way  in  which  his  duty  as  sentry  had  been  per- 
formed, the  captain  proceeded  to  catechise  him  as  to  his  orders.  The 
soldier  had  been  well  taught,  and  knew  all  his  "  responses"  by  rote, — 
far  better  than  Buxton,  for  that  matter,  as  the  latter  was  anything  but 
an  exemplar  of  perfection  in  tactics  or  sentry  duty ;  but  this  did  not 
prevent  Buxton's  snappishly  telling  him  he  was  wrong  in  several  point* 
and  contemptuously  inquiring  where  he  had  learned  such  trash.  The 
soldier  promptly  but  respectfully  responded  that  those  were  the  exact 
instructions  he  had  received  at  the  adjutant's  school,  and  Buxton 
knew  from  experience  that  he  was  getting  on  dangerous  ground.  He 
would  have  stuck  to  his  point,  however,  in  default  of  something  else 
to  find  fault  with,  but  that  the  crack  of  a  whip,  the  crunching  of  hoofs, 
and  a  rattle  of  wheels  out  in  the  darkness  quickly  diverted  his  atten- 
tion. 

"  What's  that,  sentry  ?"  he  sharply  inquired. 
"  A  carriage,  sir.     Leastwise,  I  think  it  must  be." 
"  Why  don't  you  know,  sir  ?     It  must  have  been  on  your  post." 
"No,  sir;  it  was  'way  off  my  post.     It  drove  up  to  Lieutenant 
Hayne's  about  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  Where'd  it  come  from  ?"  asked  the  captain,  eagerly. 
"  From  town,  sir,  I  suppose."  And,  leaving  the  sentry  to  his  own 
reflections,  which,  on  the  whole,  were  not  complimentary  to  his  superior 
officer,  Captain  Buxton  strode  rapidly  through  the  darkness  to  Lieuten- 
ant Hayne's  quarters.  Bright  lights  were  still  burning  within,  both 
on  the  ground-floor  and  in  a  room  above.  The  sentries  were  just 
beginning  the  call  of  one  o'clock  when  he  reached  the  gate  and  halted, 
gazing  inquisitively  at  the  house  front.  Then  he  turned  and  listened 
to  the  rattle  of  wheels  growing  faint  in  the  distance  as  the  team  drove 
away  towards  the  prairie  town.  If  Hayne  had  gone  to  town  at  that 
hour  of  the  night  it  was  a  most  unusual  proceeding,  and  he  had  not 


THE  DESERTER.  Ill 

the  colonel's  permission  to  absent  himself  from  the  post :  of  that  the 
officer  of  the  day  was  certain.  Then,  again,  he  would  not  have  gone 
and  left  all  his  lights  burning.  No :  that  vehicle,  whatever  it  was, 
had  brought  somebody  out  to  see  him, — somebody  who  proposed  to 
remain  several  hours ;  otherwise  the  carriage  would  not  have  driven 
away.  In  confirmation  of  this  theory,  he  heard  voices,  cheery  voices, 
in  laughing  talk,  and  one  of  them  made  him  prick  up  his  ears.  He 
heard  the  piano  crisply  trilling  a  response  to  light,  skilful  fingers.  He 
longed  for  a  peep  within,  and  regretted  that  he  had  dropped  Mr.  Hayne 
from  the  list  of  his  acquaintance.  He  recognized  Hayne's  shadow, 
presently,  thrown  by  the  lamp  upon  the  curtained  window,  and  wished 
that  his  visitor  would  come  similarly  into  view.  He  heard  the  clink 
of  glasses,  and  saw  the  shadow  raise  a  wineglass  to  the  lips,  and  Sam's 
Mongolian  shape  flitted  across  the  screen,  bearing  a  tray  with  similar 
suggestive  objects.  What  meant  this  unheard-of  conviviality  on  the 
part  of  the  ascetic,  the  hermit,  the  midnight-oil-burner,  the  scholarly 
recluse  of  the  garrison  ?  Buxton  stared  with  all  his  eyes  and  listened 
with  all  his  ears,  starting  guiltily  when  he  heard  a  martial  footstep 
coming  quickly  up  the  path,  and  faced  the  intruder  rather  unsteadily. 
It  was  only  the  corporal  of  the  guard,  and  he  glanced  at  his  superior, 
brought  his  fur-gauntleted  hand  in  salute  to  the  rifle  on  his  shoulder, 
and  passed  on.  The  next  moment  Buxton  fairly  gasped  with  amaze : 
he  stared  an  instant  at  the  window  as  though  transfixed,  then  ran  after 
the  corporal,  called  to  him  in  low,  stealthy  tone  to  come  back  noise- 
lessly, drew  him  by  the  sleeve  to  the  front  of  Hayne's  quarters,  and 
pointed  to  the  parlor  window.  Two  shadows  were  there  now, — one 
easily  recognizable  as  that  of  the  young  officer  in  his  snugly-fitting 
undress  uniform,  the  other  slender,  graceful,  feminine. 

"What  do  you  make  that  other  shadow  to  be,  corporal?"  he 
whispered,  hoarsely  and  hurriedly.  "  Look  !"  And  with  that  excla- 
mation a  shadowed  arm  seemed  to  encircle  the  slender  form,  the  mous- 
tached  image  to  bend  low  and  mingle  with  the  outlined  luxuriance  of 
tress  that  decked  the  other's  head,  and  then,  together,  with  clasping 
arms,  the  shadows  moved  from  view. 

"  What  was  the  other,  corporal  ?"  he  repeated. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  should  say  it  was  a  young  woman." 

Buxton  could  hardly  wait  until  morning  to  see  Rayner.  When  he 
passed  the  latter's  quarters  half  an  hour  later,  all  was  darkness  ;  though, 
had  he  but  known  it,  Rayner  was  not  asleep.  He  was  at  the  house 


112  THE  DESERTER. 

before  guard-mounting,  and  had  a  confidential  and  evidently  exciting 
talk  with  the  captain ;  and  when  he  went,  just  as  the  trumpets  were 
sounding,  these  words  were  heard  at  the  front  door : 

"  She  never  left  until  after  daylight,  when  the  same  rig  drove  her 
back  to  town.  There  was  a  stranger  with  her  then." 

That  morning  both  Rayner  and  Buxton  looked  hard  at  Mr.  Hayne 
when  he  came  in  to  the  matinte;  but  he  was  just  as  calm  and  quiet 
as  ever,  and,  having  saluted  the  commanding  officer,  took  a  seat  by 
Captain  Gregg  and  was  soon  occupied  in  conversation  with  him.  Not 
a  word  was  said  by  the  officer  of  the  day  about  the  mysterious  visitor 
to  the  garrison  the  previous  night.  With  Captain  Rayner,  however, 
he  was  again  in  conversation  much  of  the  day,  and  to  him,  not  to  his 
successor  as  officer  of  the  day,  did  he  communicate  all  the  details  ^  the 
previous  night's  adventure  and  his  theories  thereanent. 

Late  that  night,  having  occasion  to  step  to  his  front  door,  convinced 
that  he  heard  stealthy  footsteps  on  his  piazza,  Mr.  Hayne  could  see  no- 
body in  the  darkness,  but  found  his  front  gate  open.  He  walked  around 
his  little  house ;  but  not  a  man  was  visible.  His  heart  was  full  of  a 
new  and  strange  excitement  that  night,  and,  as  before,  he  threw  on  his 
overcoat  and  furs  and  took  a  rapid  walk  around  the  garrison,  gazing  up 
into  the  starry  heavens  and  drinking  in  great  draughts  of  the  pure, 
bracing  air.  Returning,  he  came  down  along  the  front  of  officers'  row, 
and  as  he  approached  Rayner's  quarters  his  eyes  rested  longingly  upon 
the  window  he  knew  to  be  hers  now ;  but  all  was  darkness.  As  he 
rapidly  neared  the  house,  however,  he  became  aware  of  two  bulky 
figures  at  the  gate,  and,  as  he  walked  briskly  past,  recognized  the  over- 
coats as  those  of  officers.  One  man  was  doubtless  Rayner,  the  other 
he  could  not  tell ;  for  both,  the  instant  they  recognized  his  step,  seemed 
to  avert  their  heads.  Once  home  again,  he  soon  sought  his  room  and 
pillow ;  but,  long  before  he  could  sleep,  again  and  again  a  sweet  vision 
seemed  to  come  to  him :  he  could  not  shut  out  the  thought  of  Nellie 
Travers, — of  how  she  looked  and  what  she  said  that  very  afternoon. 

He  had  gone  to  call  at  Mrs.  Waldron's  soon  after  dark.  He  was 
at  the  piano,  playing  for  her,  when  he  became  conscious  that  another 
lady  had  entered  the  room,  and,  turning,  saw  Nellie  Travers.  He  rose 
and  bowed  to  her,  extending  his  hand  as  he  did  so,  and  knowing  that 
his  heart  was  thumping  and  his  color  rising  as  he  felt  the  soft,  warm 
touch  of  her  slender  fingers  in  his  grasp.  She,  too,  had  flushed, — any 
one  could  see  it,  though  the  lamps  were  not  turned  high,  nor  was  tho 
firelight  strong. 


THE  DESERTER.  113 

"  Miss  Travers  has  come  to  take  tea  very  quietly  with  me,  Mr. 
Hayne, — she  is  so  soon  to  return  to  the  East, — and  now  I  want  you  to 
stay  and  join  us.  No  one  will  be  here  but  the  major ;  and  we  will  have 
a  lovely  time  with  our  music.  You  will,  won't  you  ?" 

"  So  soon  to  return  to  the  East !"  How  harsh,  how  strange  and  un- 
welcome, the  words  sounded  !  How  they  seemed  to  oppress  him  and 
prevent  his  reply  !  He  stood  a  moment  dazed  and  vaguely  worried  : 
he  could  not  explain  it.  He  looked  from  Mrs.  Waldron's  kind  face  to 
the  sweet,  flushed,  lovely  features  there  so  near  him,  and  something  told 
him  that  he  could  never  let  them  go  and  find  even  hope  or  content  in 
life  again.  How,  why  had  she  so  strangely  come  into  his  lonely  life, 
radiant,  beautiful,  bewildering  as  some  suddenly  blazing  star  in  the 
darkest  corner  of  the  heavens  ?  "Whence  had  come  this  strange  power 
that  enthralled  him  ?  He  gazed  into  her  sweet  face,  with  its  downcast, 
troubled  eyes,  and  then,  in  bewilderment,  turned  to  Mrs.  Waldron  : 

"  I — I  had  no  idea  Miss  Travers  was  going  East  again  just  now. 
It  seems  only  a  few  days  since  she  came." 

"  It  is  over  a  month ;  but  all  the  same  this  is  a  sudden  decision.  I 
knew  nothing  of  it  until  yesterday. — You  said  Mrs.  Rayner  was  better 
to-day,  Nellie?" 

"  Yes,  a  little ;  but  she  is  far  from  well.  I  think  the  captain  will 
i,  too,  just  as  soon  as  he  can  arrange  for  leave  of  absence,"  was  the 
ow-toned  answer.  He  had  released,  or  rather  she  had  withdrawn,  her 
hand,  and  he  still  stood  there,  fascinated.  His  eyes  could  not  quit  their 
gaze.  She  going  away  ? — She  ?  Oh,  it  could  not  be  !  What — what 
would  life  become  without  the  sight  of  that  radiant  face,  that  slender, 
graceful,  girlish  form? 

"  Is  not  this  very  unexpected  ?"  he  struggled  to  say.  "  I  thought — 
I  heard  you  were  to  spend  several  months  here." 

"It  was  so  intended,  Mr.  Hayne;  but  my  sister's  health  requires 
speedy  change.  She  has  been  growing  worse  ever  since  we  came,  and 
she  will  not  get  well  here." 

"  And  when  do  you  go  ?"  he  asked,  blankly. 

"  Just  as  soon  as  we  can  pack ;  though  we  may  wait  two  or  three 
days  for  a — for  a  telegram." 

There  was  a  complete  break  in  the  conversation  for  a  full  quarter 
of  a  minute, — not  such  a  long  time  in  itself,  but  unconventionally  long 
under  such  circumstances.  Then  Mrs.  Waldron  suddenly  and  remark- 
ably arose : 

10* 


P 
kn 


114  THE  DESERTER. 

"I'll  leave  you  to  entertain  Mr.  Hayne  a  few  moments,  Nellie. 
I  am  the  slave  of  my  cook,  and  she  knows  nothing  of  Mr.  Hayne's 
being  here  to  tea  with  us :  so  I  must  tell  her  and  avert  disaster." 
Aiid  with  this  barefaced — statement  on  her  lips  and  conscience,  where  it 
rested  with  equal  lightness,  that  exemplary  lady  quitted  the  room.  In 
the  sanctity  of  the  connubial  chamber  that  evening,  some  hours  later, 
she  thus  explained  her  action  to  her  silent  spouse  : 

"  Right  or  wrong,  I  meant  that  those  two  young  people  should  have 
a  chance  to  know  each  other.  I  have  been  convinced  for  three  weeks 
that  she  is  being  forced  into  this  New  York  match,  and  for  the  last 
week  that  she  is  wretchedly  unhappy.  You  say  you  believe  him  a 
wronged  and  injured  man,  only  you  can't  prove  it,  and  you  have  said 
that  nothing  could  be  too  good  for  him  in  this  life  as  a  reward  for  all 
his  bravery  and  fortitude  under  fearful  trials.  Then  Nellie  Travers  isn't 
too  good  for  him,  sweet  as  she  is,  and  I  don't  care  who  calls  me  a  match- 
maker." 

But  with  Mrs.  Waldron  away  the  two  appeared  to  have  made  but 
halting  progress  towards  friendship.  With  all  her  outspoken  pluck  at 
school  and  at  home,  Miss  Travers  was  strangely  ill  at  ease  and  em- 
barrassed now.  Mr.  Hayne  was  the  first  to  gain  self-control  and  to 
endeavor  to  bring  the  conversation  back  to  a  natural  channel.  It  was 
a  struggle ;  but  he  had  grown  accustomed  to  struggles.  He  could  not 
imagine  that  a  girl  whom  he  had  met  only  once  or  twice  should  have 
for  him  anything  more  than  the  vaguest  and  most  casual  interest.  He 
well  knew  by  this  time  how  deep  and  vehement  was  the  interest  she 
had  aroused  in  his  heart ;  but  it  would  never  do  to  betray  himself  so 
soon.  He  strove  to  interest  her  in  reference  to  the  music  she  would 
hear,  and  to  learn  from  her  where  they  were  going.  This  she  answered. 
They  would  go  no  farther  East  than  St.  Louis  or  Chicago.  They  might 
go  South  as  far  as  Nashville  until  mid-May.  As  for  the  summer, 
it  would  depend  on  the  captain  and  his  leave  of  absence.  It  was  all 
vague  and  unsettled.  Mrs.  Eayner  was  so  wretched  that  her  husband 
was  convinced  that  she  ought  to  leave  for  the  States  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  of  course  "  she"  must  go  with  her.  All  the  gladness,  brightness, 
vivacity  he  had  seen  and  heard  of  as  her  marked  characteristics  seemed 
gone ;  and,  yet,  she  wanted  to  speak  with  him, — wanted  to  be  with 
him.  What  could  be  wrong?  he  asked  himself.  It  was  not  until  Mrs. 
Waldron's  step  was  heard  returning  that  she  nerved  herself  to  sudden, 
almost  desperate,  effort.  She  startled  him  with  her  veheropuce  : 


THE  DESERTER.  115 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  there  is  something  I  must  tell  you  before  I  go.  If 
no  opportunity  occur,  I'll  write  it." 

And  those  were  the  words  that  had  been  haunting  him  all  the 
evening,  for  they  were  not  again  alone,  and  he  had  no  chance  to  ask  a 
question.  What  could  she  mean?  For  years  he  had  been  living  a  life 
of  stern  self-denial ;  but  long  before  his  promotion  the  last  penny  of 
the  obligation  that,  justly  or  otherwise,  had  been  laid  upon  his  shoulders 
was  paid  with  interest.  He  was  a  man  free  and  self-respecting,  strong, 
resolute,  and  possessed  of  an  independence  that  never  would  have  been 
his  had  his  life  run  on  in  the  same  easy,  trusting,  happy-go-lucky  style 
in  which  he  had  spent  the  first  two  years  of  his  army  career.  But  in 
his  isolation  he  had  allowed  himself  no  thought  of  anything  that  could 
for  a  moment  distract  him  from  the  stern  purpose  to  which  he  had  de- 
voted every  energy.  He  would  win  back,  command,  compel,  the  respect 
of  his  comrades, — would  bring  to  confusion  those  who  had  sought  to 
pull  him  down ;  and  until  that  stood  accomplished  he  would  know  no 
other  claim.  In  the  exile  of  the  mountain-station  he  saw  no  women 
but  the  wives  of  his  senior  officers ;  and  they  merely  bowed  when  they 
happened  to  meet  him :  some  did  not  even  do  that.  Now  at  last  he 
had  met  and  yielded  to  the  first  of  two  conquerors  before  whom  even 
the  bravest  and  the  strongest  go  down  infallibly, — Love  and  Death. 
Suddenly,  but  irresistibly,  the  sweet  face  and  thrilling  tones  of  that 
young  girl  had  seized  and  filled  his  heart,  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  every 
other  passion ;  and  just  in  proportion  to  the  emptiness  and  yearning  of 
his  life  before  their  meeting  was  the  intensity  of  the  love  and  longing 
that  possessed  him  now.  It  was  useless  to  try  and  analyze  the  sudden- 
ness and  subtilty  of  its  approach  :  the  power  of  love  had  overmastered 
him.  He  could  only  realize  that  it  was  here  and  he  must  obey.  Late 
into  the  morning  hours  he  lay  there,  his  brain  whirling  with  its  varied 
and  bewildering  emotions.  Win  her  he  must,  or  the  blackness  and 
desolation  of  the  past  five  years  would  be  as  nothing  compared  with 
the  misery  of  the  years  to  come.  Woo  her  he  would,  and  not  without 
hope,  if  ever  woman's  eyes  gave  proof  of  sympathy  and  trust.  But 
now  at  last  he  realized  that  the  time  had  come  when  for  her  sake — not 
for  his — he  must  adopt  a  new  course.  Hitherto  he  had  scorned  and 
repelled  all  overtures  that  were  not  prefaced  by  an  expression  of  belief 
in  his  utter  innocence  in  the  past.  Hitherto  he  had  chosen  to  live  the 
life  of  an  anchorite,  and  had  abjured  the  society  of  women.  Hitherto 
he  had  refused  the  half-extended  proffers  of  comrades  who  had  sought 


116  THE  DESERTER. 

to  continue  the  investigation  of  a  chain  of  circumstances  that,  complete, 
might  have  proved  him  a  wronged  and  defrauded  man.  The  missing 
links  were  not  beyond  recovery  in  skilful  hands ;  but  in  the  shock  and 
horror  which  he  felt  on  realizing  that  it  was  not  only  possible  but  cer- 
tain that  a  jury  of  his  comrade  officers  could  deem  him  guilty  of  a  low 
crime,  he  hid  his  face  and  turned  from  all.  Now  the  time  had  come 
to  reopen  the  case.  He  well  knew  that  a  revulsion  of  feeling  had  set 
in  which  nothing  but  his  own  stubbornness  held  in  check.  He  knew 
that  he  had  friends  and  sympathizers  among  officers  high  in  rank.  He 
had  only  a  few  days  before  heard  from  Major  Waldron's  lips  a  strong 
intimation  that  it  was  his  duty  to  "  come  out  of  his  shell"  and  reassert 
himself.  "  You  must  remember  this,  Hayne,"  said  he  :  "  you  had  been 
only  two  years  in  service  when  tried  by  court-martial.  You  were  an 
utter  stranger  to  every  member  of  that  court.  There  was  nothing  but 
the  evidence  to  go  upon,  and  that  was  all  against  you.  The  court  was 
made  up  of  officers  from  other  regiments,  and  was  at  least  impartial. 
The  evidence  was  almost  all  from  your  own,  and  was  presumably  well 
founded.  You  would  call  no  witnesses  for  defence.  You  made  your 
almost  defiant  statement ;  refused  counsel ;  refused  advice ;  and  what 
could  the  court  do  but  convict  and  sentence  ?  Had  I  been  a  member 
of  the  court  I  would  have  voted  just  as  was  done  by  the  court ;  and 
yet  I  believe  you  now  an  utterly  innocent  man." 

So,  apparently,  did  the  colonel  regard  him.  So,  too,  did  several  of 
the  officers  of  the  cavalry.  So,  too,  would  most  of  the  youngsters  of 
his  own  regiment  if  he  would  only  give  them  half  a  chance.  In  any 
event,  the  score  was  wiped  out  now ;  he  could  afford  to  take  a  wife  if  a 
woman  learned  to  love  him,  and  what  wealth  of  tenderness  and  devo- 
tion was  he  not  ready  to  lavish  on  one  who  would !  But  he  would  offer 
no  one  a  tarnished  name.  First  and  foremost  he  must  now  stand  up  and 
fight  that  calumny, — "  come  out  of  his  shell,"  as  Waldron  had  said,  and 
give  people  a  chance  to  see  what  manner  of  man  he  was.  God  helping 
him,  he  would,  and  that  without  delay. 

XIV. 

"  The  best-kid  schemes  o'  mice  an'  men  gang  aft  a-gley."  Mrs. 
Rayner,  ill  in  mind  and  body,  had  yielded  to  her  lord's  entreaties  and 
determined  to  start  eastward  with  her  sister  without  delay.  Pack- 
ing was  already  begun.  Miss  Travers  had  promised  herself  that  she 


THE  DESERTER.  117 

would  within  thirty-six  hours  put  Mr.  Hayne  in  possession  of  certain 
facts  or  theories  which  in  her  opinion  bore  strongly  upon  the  "  clear- 
ing up"  of  the  case  against  him ;  Mr.  Hayne  had  determined  that  he 
would  see  Major  Waldron  on  the  coming  day  and  begin  active  efforts 
towards  the  restoration  of  his  social  rights ;  the  doctor  had  about  decided 
on  a  new  project  for  inducing  Clancy  to  unbosom  himself  of  what  he 
knew ;  Captain  Rayner — tired  of  the  long  struggle — was  almost  ready 
to  welcome  anything  which  should  establish  his  subaltern's  innocence, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  asking  for  six  months'  leave  just  as  soon  as  he 
had  arranged  for  Clancy's  final  discharge  from  service  :  he  had  reasons 
for  staying  at  the  post  until  that  Hibernian  household  was  fairly  and 
squarely  removed ;  and  Mrs.  Clancy's  plan  was  to  take  Mike  to  the 
distant  East,  "  where  she  had  frinds."  There  were  other  schemes  and 
projects,  no  doubt,  but  these  mainly  concerned  our  leading  characters, 
and  one  and  all  they  were  put  to  the  right-about  by  the  events  of  the 
following  day. 

The  colonel,  with  his  gruff  second  in  command,  Major  Stannard, 
had  been  under  orders  for  several  days  to  proceed  on  this  particular 
date  to  a  large  town  a  day's  journey  eastward  by  rail.  A  court-martial 
composed  mainly  of  field-officers  was  ordered  there  to  assemble  for 
the  trial  of  an  old  captain  of  cavalry  whose  propensity  it  was  not  so 
much  to  get  drunk  as  never  to  get  drunk  without  concomitant  publicity 
and  discovery.  It  was  a  rare  thing  for  the  old  war-dog  to  take  so  much 
as  a  glass  of  wine ;  he  went  for  months  without  it ;  but  the  instant 
he  began  to  drink  he  was  moved  to  do  or  say  something  disreputable, 
and  that  was  the  trouble  now.  He  was  an  unlucky  old  trooper,  who 
had  risen  from  the  lowest  grades,  fought  with  credit,  and  even,  at 
times,  commanded  his  regiment,  during  the  war ;  but  war  records  could 
not  save  him  when  he  wouldn't  save  himself,  and  he  had  to  go.  The 
court  was  ordered,  and  the  result  was  a  foregone  conclusion.  The  colonel, 
his  adjutant,  and  Major  Stannard  were  to  drive  to  town  during  the  after- 
noon and  take  the  east-bound  train,  leaving  Major  Waldron  in  command 
of  the  post ;  but  before  guard-mounting  a  telegram  was  received  which 
was  sent  from  department  head-quarters  the  evening  before,  announcing 
that  one  of  the  officers  detailed  for  the  court  was  seriously  ill,  and  direct- 
ing Major  Waldron  to  take  his  place.  So  it  resulted  in  the  post  being 
left  to  the  command  of  the  senior  captain  present  for  duty ;  and  that ' 
man  was  Captain  Buxton.  He  had  never  had  so  big  a  command  before 
in  all  his  life. 


118  THE  DESERTER. 

Major  Waldron  of  course  had  to  go  home  and  make  his  preparations. 
Mr.  Hayne,  therefore,  had  brief  opportunity  to  speak  with  him.  It  was 
seen,  however,  that  they  had  a  short  talk  together  on  the  major's  piazza, 
and  that  when  they  parted  the  major  shook  him  warmly  and  cordially 
by  the  hand.  Rayner,  Buxton,  Ross,  and  some  juniors  happened  to  be 
coming  down  along  the  walk  at  the  moment,  and,  seeing  them,  as  though 
with  pointed  meaning  the  major  called  out,  so  that  all  could  hear, — 

"  By  the  way,  Hayne,  I  wish  you  would  drop  in  occasionally  while 
I'm  gone  and  take  Mrs.  Waldron  out  for  a  walk  or  drive :  my  horses 
are  always  at  your  service.  And — a — I'll  write  to  you  about  that  matter 
the  moment  I've  had  a  chance  to  talk  with  the  colonel, — to-morrow, 
probably."  And  Hayne  touched  his  cap  in  parting  salute,  and  went 
blithely  off  with  brightened  eye  and  rising  color. 

Buxton  glowered  after  him  a  moment,  and  conversation  suddenly 
ceased  in  their  party.  Finally  he  blurted  out, — 

"  Strikes  me  your  major  might  do  a  good  deal  better  by  himself  and 
his  regiment  by  standing  up  for  its  morale  and  discipline  than  by  openly 
flaunting  his  favoritism  for  convicts  in  our  faces.  If  I  were  in  your 
regiment  I'd  cut  him" 

"  You  wouldn't  have  to,"  muttered  one  of  the  group  to  his  neigh- 
bor :  "  the  cut  would  have  been  on  the  other  side  long  ago."  And  the 
speaker  was  Buxton's  own  subaltern. 

Rayner  said  nothing.  His  eyes  were  troubled  and  anxious,  and  he 
looked  after  Hayne  with  an  expression  far  more  wearied  than  vindictive. 

"  The  major  is  fond  of  music,  captain,"  said  Mr.  Ross,  with  mis- 
chievous intent.  "  He  hasn't  been  to  the  club  since  the  night  you  sang 
'Eileen  Alanna.'  That  was  about  the  time  Hayne's  piano  came." 

"  Yes,"  put  in  Foster,  "  Mrs.  Waldron  says  he  goes  and  owls  Hayne 
now  night  after  night  just  to  hear  him  play." 

"  It  would  be  well  for  him,  then,  if  he  kept  a  better  guard  on  Mr. 
Hayne's  other  visitors,"  said  Buxton,  with  a  black  scowl.  "  I  don't 
know  how  you  gentlemen  in  the  Riflers  look  upon  such  matters,  but  in 
the  — th  the  man  who  dared  to  introduce  a  woman  of  the  town  into  his 
quarters  would  be  kicked  out  in  short  order." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  anybody  accuses  Hayne  of  that,  do 
you  ?"  asked  Ross,  in  amaze. 

"  I  do, — -just  that.  Only,  I  say  this  to  you,  it  has  but  just  come  to 
light,  and  only  one  or  two  know  it.  To  prove  it  positively  he's  got 
to  be  allowed  more  rope ;  for  he  got  her  out  of  the  way  last  time  before 


THE  DESERTER.  119 

we  could  clinch  the  matter.  If  he  suspects  it  is  known  he  won't  re- 
peat it ;  if  kept  to  ourselves  he  will  probably  try  it  again, — and  be 
caught.  Now  I  charge  you  all  to  regard  this  as  confidential." 

"But,  Captain  Buxton,"  said  Ross,  "this  is  so  serious  a  matter 
that  I  don't  like  to  believe  it.  Who  can  prove  such  a  story  ?" 

"  Of  course  not,  Mr.  Ross.  You  are  quite  ready  to  treat  a  man  as 
a  thief,  but  oan't  believe  he'll  do  another  thing  that  is  disreputable. 
That  is  characteristic  of  your  style  of  reasoning,"  said  Buxton,  with 
biting  sarcasm. 

"  You  can't  wither  me  with  contempt,  Captain  Buxton.  I  have  a 
right  to  my  opinion,  and  I  have  known  Mr.  Hayne  for  years,  and  if  1 
did  believe  him  guilty  of  one  crime  five  years  ago  I'm  not  so  ready  tc 
believe  him  guilty  of  another  now.  This  isn't — isn't  like  Hayne." 

"  No,  of  course  not,  as  I  said  before.  Now,  will  you  tell  me,  Mr. 
Ross,  just  why  Mr.  Hayne  chose  that  ramshackle  old  shanty  out  there 
on  the  prairie,  all  by  himself,  unless  it  was  to  be  where  he  could  have 
his  chosen  companions  with  him  at  night  and  no  one  be  the  wiser  ?" 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  fathom  his  motives,  sir ;  but  I  don't  believe  it 
was  for  any  such  purpose  as  you  seem  to  think." 

"In  other  words,  you  think  I'm  circulating  baseless  scandal,  do 
you?" 

"  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  kind ;  and  I  protest  against  your  put- 
ting words  into  my  mouth  I  never  used." 

"  You  intimated  as  much,  anyhow,  and  you  plainly  don't  believe  it/ 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe — that  is,  I  don't  see  how  it  could  happen." 

"  Couldn't  the  woman  drive  out  from  town  after  dark,  send  the 
carriage  back,  and  have  it  call  for  her  again  in  the  morning?"  asked 
Buxton. 

"Possibly.  Still,  it  isn't  a  proved  fact  that  a  woman  spent  the 
night  at  Hayne's,  even  if  a  carriage  was  seen  coming  out.  You've  got 
hold  of  some  Sudsville  gossip,  probably,"  replied  Ross. 

"I  have,  have  I?  By  God,  sir,  I'll  teach  you  better  manners 
before  we  get  through  with  this  question.  Do  you  know  who  saw 
the  carriage,  and  who  saw  the  woman,  both  at  Hayne's  quarters?" 

"  Certainly  I  don't !  What  I  don't  understand  is  how  you  should 
have  been  made  the  recipient  of  the  story." 

''Mr.  Ross,  just  govern  your  tongue,  sir,  and  remember  you  are 
speaking  to  your  superior  officer,  and  don't  venture  to  treat  my  state- 
ments with  disrespect  hereafter.  I  saw  it  myself!" 


120  THE  DESERTER. 

"  You  !"  gulped  Ross,  while  amaze  and  incredulity  shot  across  his 
startled  face. 

"  You  !"  exclaimed  others  of  the  group,  in  evident  astonishment 
and  dismay.  Rayner  alone  looked  unchanged.  It  was  no  news  to  him, 
while  to  every  other  man  in  the  party  it  was  a  shock.  Up  to  that 
instant  the  prevailing  belief  had  been,  with  Ross,  that  Buxton  had 
found  some  garrison  gossip  and  was  building  an  edifice  thereon.  His 
positive  statement,  however,  was  too  much  for  the  most  incredulous. 

"  Now  what  have  you  to  say  ?"  he  asked,  in  rude  triumph. 

There  was  no  answer  for  a  moment ;  then  Ross  spoke : 

"  Of  course,  Captain  Buxton,  I  withdraw  any  expression  of  doubt. 
It  never  occurred  to  me  that  you  could  have  seen  it.  May  I  ask  when 
and  how?" 

"  The  last  time  I  was  officer  of  the  day,  sir  ;  and  Captain  Rayner 
is  my  witness  as  to  the  time.  Others,  whom  I  need  not  mention,  saw 
it  with  me.  There  is  no  mistake,  sir.  The  woman  was  there."  And 
Buxton  stood  enjoying  the  effect. 

Ross  looked  white  and  dazed.  He  turned  slowly  away,  hesitated, 
looked  back,  then  exclaimed, — 

"  You  are  sure  it  was — it  was  not  some  one  that  had  a  right  to  be 
there?" 

"  How  could  it  be  ?"  said  Buxton,  gruffly.  "  You  know  he  has 
not  an  acquaintance  in  town,  or  here,  who  could  be  with  him  there  at 
night." 

"  Does  the  commanding  officer  know  of  it?"  asked  Mr.  Royce,  after 
a  moment's  silence. 

"  I  am  the  commanding  officer,  Mr.  Royce,"  said  Buxton,  with 
majestic  dignity, — "  at  least  I  will  be  after  twelve  o'clock ;  and  you 
may  depend  upon  it,  gentlemen,  this  thing  will  not  occur  while  I  am 
in  command  without  its  receiving  the  exact  treatment  it  deserves.  Re- 
member, now,  not  a  word  of  this  to  anybody.  You  are  as  much  in- 
terested as  I  am  in  bringing  to  justice  a  man  who  will  disgrace  his  uni- 
form and  his  regiment  and  insult  every  lady  in  the  garrison  by  such  an 
act.  This  sort  of  thing  of  course  will  run  him  out  of  the  service  for 
good  and  all.  We  simply  have  to  be  sure  of  our  ground  and  make  the 
evidence  conclusive.  Leave  that  to  me  the  next  time  it  happens.  I 
repeat,  say  nothing  of  this  to  any  one." 

But  Rayner  had  already  told  his  wife. 

Just  as  Major  Waldron  was  driving  off  to  the  station  that  bright 


THE  DESERTER.  ,          121 

April  afternoon  and  his  carriage  was  whirling  through  the  east  gate,  the 
driver  caught  sight  of  Lieutenant  Hayne  running  up  Prairie  Avenue, 
waving  his  hand  and  shouting  to  him.  He  reined  in  his  spirited  baya 
with  some  difficulty,  and  Hayne  finally  caught  up  with  them. 

"  What  is  it,  Hayne  ?"  asked  Waldron,  with  kindly  interest,  leaning 
out  of  his  carriage. 

"  They  will  be  back  to-night,  sir.  Here  is  a  telegram  that  has  just 
jeached  me." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  not  to  be  here  to  welcome  them ; 
but  Mrs.  Waldron  will  be  delighted,  and  she  will  come  to  call  the 
moment  you  let  her  know.  Keep  them  till  I  get  back,  if  you  possibly 
can." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir.     Good-by." 

"  Good-by,  Hayne.     God  bless  you,  and — good  luck  !" 

A  little  later  that  afternoon  Mrs.  Rayner  had  occasion  to  go  into 
her  sister's  room.  It  was  almost  sunset,  and  Nellie  had  been  summoned 
down-stairs  to  see  visitors.  Both  the  ladies  were  busy  with  their  pack- 
ing,— Mrs.  Rayner,  as  became  an  invalid,  superintending,  and  Miss 
Travers,  as  became  the  junior,  doing  all  the  work.  It  was  rather  trying 
to  pack  all  the  trunks  and  receive  visitors  of  both  sexes  at  odd  hours. 
Some  of  her  garrison  acquaintances  would  have  been  glad  to  come  and 
help,  but  those  whom  she  would  have  welcomed  were  not  agreeable  to 
the  lady  of  the  house,  and  those  the  lady  of  the  house  would  have 
chosen  were  not  agreeable  to  her.  The  relations  between  the  sisters 
were  somewhat  strained  and  unnatural,  and  had  been  growing  more  and 
more  so  for  several  days  past.  Mrs.  Rayner's  desk  was  already  packed 
away.  She  wanted  to  send  a  note,  and  bethought  her  of  her  sister's 
portfolio.  Opening  it,  she  drew  out  some  paper  and  envelopes,  and 
with  the  latter  came  an  envelope  sealed  and  directed.  One  glance  at 
its  superscription  sent  the  blood  to  her  cheek  and  fire  to  her  eye.  Was 
it  possible  ?  Was  it  credible  ?  Her  pet,  her  baby  sister,  her  pride  and 
delight, — until  she  found  her  stronger  in  will, — her  proud-spirited, 
truthful  Nell,  was  beyond  question  corresponding  with  Lieutenant 
Hayne  !  Here  was  a  note  addressed  to  him.  How  many  more  might 
not  have  been  exchanged  ?  Ruthlessly  now  she  explored  the  desk, 
searching  for  something  from  him,  but  her  scrutiny  was  vain.  Oh, 
what  could  she  say,  what  could  she  do,  to  convey  to  her  erring  sister 
aii  adequate  sense  of  the  extent  of  her  displeasure?  How  could  she 
bring  her  to  realize  the  shame,  the  guilt,  the  scandal,  of  her  course  ? 
F  11 


122  THE  DESERTER. 

She,  Nellie  Travers.  the  betrothed  wife  of  Steven  Van  Antwerp,  corre- 
sponding secretly  with  this — this  scoundrel,  whose  past,  crime-laden  as 
it  had  been,  was  as  nothing  compared  to  the  present  with  its  degrada- 
tion of  vice  ?  Ah !  she  had  it !  What  would  ever  move  her  as  that 
could  and  must  ? 

When  the  trumpets  rang  out  their  sunset  call  and  the  boom  of  the 
evening  gun  shook  the  windows  in  Fort  Warrener  and  Nellie  Travers 
•came  running  up-stairs  again  to  her  room,  she  started  at  the  sight  that 
met  her  eyes.  There  stood  Mrs.  Rayner,  like  Juno  in  wrath  inflexible, 
glaring  at  her  from  the  commanding  height  of  which  she  was  so  proud, 
and  pointing  in  speechless  indignation  at  the  little  note  that  lay  upon 
the  open  portfolio. 

For  a  moment  neither  spoke.  Then  Miss  Travers,  who  had  turned 
very  white,  but  whose  blue  eyes  never  flinched  and  whose  lips  were  set 
and  whose  little  foot  was  tapping  the  carpet  ominously,  thus  began  : 

"  Kate,  I  do  not  recognize  your  right  to  overhaul  nay  desk  or  super- 
vise my  correspondence." 

"  Understand  this  first,  Cornelia,"  said  Mrs.  Rayner,  who  hated  the 
baptismal  name  as  much  as  did  her  sister,  and  used  it  only  when  she 
desired  to  be  especially  and  desperately  impressive :  "  I  found  it  by 
accident.  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  possibility  as  this.  I  never, 
even  after  what  I  have  seen  and  heard,  could  have  believed  you  guilty 
of  this ;  but,  now  that  I  have  found  it,  I  have  the  right  to  ask,  what 
are  its  contents  ?" 

"  I  decline  to  tell  you." 

"  Do  you  deny  my  right  to  inquire  ?" 

"  I  will  not  discuss  that  question  now.  The  other  is  far  graver. 
I  will  not  tell  you,  Kate,  except  this :  there  is  no  word  there  that  an 
engaged  girl  should  not  write." 

"  Of  that  I  mean  to  satisfy  myself,  or  rather " 

"  You  will  not  open  it,  Kate.  No !  Put  that  letter  down  !  You 
have  never  known  me  to  prevaricate  in  the  faintest  degree,  and  you 
have  no  excuse  for  doubting.  I  will  furnish  a  copy  of  that  for  Mr. 
Van  Antwerp  at  any  time ;  but  you  cannot  see  it." 

"  You  still  persist  in  your  wicked  and  unnatural  intimacy  with  that 
man,  even  after  all  that  I  have  told  you.  Now  for  the  last  time  hear 
me :  I  have  striven  not  to  tell  you  this ;  I  have  striven  not  to  sully 
your  thoughts  by  such  a  revelation ;  but,  since  nothing  else  will  check 
vou,  tell  it  I  must,  and  what  I  tell  you  my  husband  told  me  in  sacred 


THE  DESERTER.  123 

confidence,  though  soon  enough  it  will  be  a  scandal  to  the  whole  gar- 
rison." 

And  when  darkness  settled  down  on  Fort  Warrener  that  starlit 
April  evening  and  the  first  warm  breeze  from  the  south  came  sighing 
about  the  casements  and  one  by  one  the  lights  appeared  along  officers' 
row,  there  was  no  light  in  Nellie  Travers's  window.  The  little  note  lay 
in  ashes  on  the  hearth,  and  she,  with  burning,  shame-stricken  cheeks, 
with  a  black,  scorching,  gnawing  pain  at  her  heart,  was  hiding  her  face 
in  her  pillow. 

And  yet  it  was  a  jolly  evening,  after  all, — that  is,  for  some  hours 
and  for  some  people.  As  Mrs.  Rayner  and  her  sister  were  so  soon  to 
go,  probably  by  the  morrow's  train  if  their  section  could  be  secured, 
the  garrison  had  decided  to  have  an  informal  dance  as  a  suitable  fare- 
well. Their  announcement  of  impending  departure  had  come  so  sud- 
denly and  unexpectedly  that  there  was  no  time  to  prepare  anything 
elaborate,  such  as  a  german  with  favors,  etc. ;  but  good  music  and  an 
extemporized  supper  could  be  had  without  trouble.  The  colonel's  wife 
and  most  of  the  cavalry  ladies,  on  consultation,  had  decided  that  it  was 
the  very  thing  to  do,  and  the  young  officers  took  hold  with  a  will : 
they  were  always  ready  for  a  dance.  Now  that  Mrs.  Rayner  was 
really  going,  the  quarrel  should  be  ignored,  and  the  ladies  would  all  be 
as  pleasant  to  her  as  though  nothing  had  happened, — provided,  of  course, 
she  dropped  her  absurd  airs  of  injured  womanhood  and  behaved  with 
courtesy.  The  colonel  had  had  a  brief  talk  with  his  better  half  before 
starting  for  the  train,  and  suggested  that  it  was  very  probable  that  Mrs. 
Rayner  had  seen  the  folly  of  her  ways  by  that  time, — the  captain  cer- 
tainly had  been  behaving  as  though  he  regretted  the  estrangement, — 
and  if  encouraged  by  a  "  let's-drop-the- whole- thing"  sort  of  manner 
she  would  be  glad  to  reciprocate.  He  felt  far  less  anxiety  herein  than 
he  did  in  leaving  the  post  to  the  command  of  Captain  Buxton.  So 
scrupulously  had  he  been  courteous  to  that  intractable  veteran  that 
Buxton  had  no  doubt  in  his  own  mind  that  the  colonel  looked  upon  him 
as  the  model  officer  of  the  regiment.  It  was  singularly  unfortunate 
that  he  should  have  to  be  left  in  command,  but  his  one  or  two  seniors 
among  the  captains  were  away  on  long  leave,  and  there  was  no  help  for 
it.  The  colonel,  seriously  disquieted,  had  a  few  words  of  earnest  talk 
with  him  before  leaving  the  post,  cautioning  him  so  particularly  not  to 
interfere  with  any  of  the  established  details  and  customs  that  Buxton 
got  very  much  annoyed,  and  showed  it. 


124  THE  DESERTER. 

"  If  your  evidence  were  not  imperatively  necessary  before  this  court, 
I  declare  I  believe  I'd  leave  you  behind,"  said  the  colonel  to  his  adju- 
tant. "  There  is  no  telling  what  mischief  Captain  Buxton  won't  do  if 
left  to  himself." 

It  must  have  been  near  midnight,  and  the  hop  was  going  along 
beautifully,  and  Captain  Rayner,  who  was  officer  of  the  day,  was  just 
escorting  his  wife  in  to  supper,  and  Nellie,  although  looking  a  trifle 
tired  and  pale,  was  chatting  brightly  with  a  knot  of  young  officers, 
when  a  corporal  of  the  guard  came  to  the  door :  "  The  commanding 
officer's  compliments,  and  he  desires  to  see  the  officer  of  the  day  at 
once." 

There  was  a  general  laugh.  "  Isn't  that  Buxton  all  over  ?  The 
colonel  would  never  think  of  sending  for  an  officer  in  the  dead  of  night, 
except  for  a  fire  or  alarm ;  but  old  Bux.  begins  putting  on  frills  the 
moment  he  gets  a  chance.  Thank  God,  I'm  not  on  guard  to-night !" 
said  Mr.  Royce. 

"What  can  he  want  with  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner,  pettishly. 
"  The  idea  of  one  captain  ordering  another  around  like  this  !" 

"  I'll  be  back  in  five  minutes,"  said  Rayner,  as  he  picked  up  his 
sword  and  disappeared. 

But  ten  minutes — fifteen — passed,  and  he  came  not.  Mrs.  Ray- 
ner grew  worried,  and  Mr.  Blake  led  her  out  on  the  rude  piazza  to  see 
what  they  could  see,  and  several  others  strolled  out  at  the  same  time. 
The  music  had  ceased,  and  the  night  air  was  not  too  cold.  Not  a  soul 
was  in  sight  out  on  the  starlit  parade.  Not  an  unusual  sound  was 
heard.  There  was  nothing  to  indicate  the  faintest  trouble;  and  yet 
Captain  Buxton,  the  commanding  officer,  had  been  called  out  by  his 
"  striker"  or  soldier-servant  before  eleven  o'clock,  had  not  returned  at 
all,  and  in  little  over  half  an  hour  had  sent  for  the  officer  of  the  day. 
What  did  it  mean  ?  Questioning  and  talking  thus  among  themselves, 
somebody  said,  "  Hark  !"  and  held  up  a  warning  hand. 

Faint,  far,  muffled,  there  sounded  on  the  night  air  a  shot,  then  a 
woman's  scream  ;  then  all  was  still. 

"  Mrs.  Clancy  again  !"  said  one. 

"  That  was  not  Mrs.  Clancy  :  'twas  a  far  different  voice,"  answered 
Blake,  and  tore  away  across  the  parade  as  fast  as  his  long  legs  would 
carry  him. 

"Look  !  The  guard  are  running  too  !"  cried  Mrs.  Waldron.  "  What 
can  it  be?"  And,  sure  enough,  the  gleam  of  the  rifles  could  be  seen 


THE  DESERTER.  125 

as  the  men  ran  rapidly  away  in  the  direction  of  the  east  gate.  Mrs. 
Rayner  had  grown  ghastly,  and  was  looking  at  Miss  Travers,  who  with 
white  lips  and  clinched  hands  stood  leaning  on  one  of  the  wooden 

Cts  and  gazing  with  all  her  eyes  across  the  dim  level.     Others  came 
Tying  out  from  the  hall.     Other  young  officers  ran  in  pursuit  of  the 
first  starters.     "What's  the  matter?     What's   happened?"  were  the 
questions  that  flew  from  lip  to  lip. 

"  I— I  must  go  home/'  faltered  Mrs.  Rayner.     "  Come,  Nellie  !" 
"  Oh,  don't  go,  Mrs.  Rayner.     It  can't  be  anything  serious." 
But,  even  as  they  urged,  a  man  came  running  towards  them. 
"  Is  the  doctor  here  ?"  he  panted. 

"  Yes.  What's  the  trouble  ?"  asked  Dr.  Pease,  as  he  squeezed  his 
burly  form  through  the  crowded  door-way. 

"  You're  wanted,  sir.  Loot'nant  Hayne's  shot ;  an'  Captain  Ray- 
ner he's  hurt  too,  sir." 

XV. 

Straight  as  an  arrow  Mr.  Blake  had  sped  across  the  parade,  darted 
through  the  east  gate,  and,  turning,  had  arrived  breathless  at  the  wooden 
porch  of  Hayne's  quarters.  Two  bewildered-looking  members  of  the 
guard  were  at  the  door.  Blake  pushed  his  way  through  the  little  hall- 
way and  into  the  dimly-lighted  parlor,  where  a  strange  scene  met  his 
eyes  :  Lieutenant  Hayne  lay  senseless  and  white  upon  the  lounge  across 
the  room ;  a  young  and  pretty  woman,  singularly  like  him  in  feature 
and  in  the  color  of  her  abundant  tresses,  was  kneeling  beside  him,  chafing 
his  hands,  imploring  him  to  speak, — to  look  at  her, — unmindful  of  the 
fact  that  her  feet  were  bare  and  that  only  a  loose  wrapper  was  thrown 
over  her  white  night-dress  ;  Captain  Rayner  was  seated  in  a  chair,  deathly 
white,  and  striving  to  stanch  the  blood  that  flowed  from  a  deep  gash 
in  his  temple  and  forehead ;  he  seemed  still  stunned  as  by  the  force  of 
the  blow  that  had  felled  him  ;  and  Buxton,  speechless  with  amaze  and 
heaven  only  knows  what  other  emotions,  was  glaring  at  a  tall,  athletic 
stranger  who,  in  stocking-feet,  undershirt,  and  trousers,  held  by  three 
frightened-looking  soldiers  and  covered  by  the  carbine  of  a  fourth,  was 
hurling  defiance  and  denunciation  at  the  commanding  officer.  A  re- 
volver lay  upon  the  floor  at  the  feet  of  a  corporal  of  the  guard,  who 
was  groaning  in  pain.  A  thin  veil  of  powder-smoke  floated  through 
the  room.  As  Blake  leaped  in, — his  cavalry  shoulder-knots  and  helmet- 
cords  gleaming  in  the  light, — a  flash  of  recognition  shot  into  the  stranger's 


126  THE  DESERTER. 

eyes,  and  he  curbed  his  fearful  excitement  and  stopped  short  in  his  wrath. 

"  What  devil's  work  is  this  ?"  demanded  Blake,  glaring  intuitively 
at  Buxton. 

"  These  people  resisted  my  guards,  and  had  to  take  the  consequences," 
said  Buxton,  with  surly — yet  shaken — dignity. 

"  What  were  the  guards  doing  here  ?  What,  in  God's  name,  are  you 
doing  here  ?"  demanded  Blake,  forgetful  of  all  consideration  of  rank 
and  command  in  the  face  of  such  evident  catastrophe. 

"  I  ordered  them  here, — to  enter  and  search." 

A  pause. 

"Search  what?— what  for?" 

"  For — a  woman  I  had  reason  to  believe  he  had  brought  out  here 
from  town." 

"  What?  You  infernal  idiot !  Why,  she's  his  own  sister,  and  this 
gentleman's  wife !" 

The  silence,  broken  only  by  the  hard  breathing  of  some  of  the 
excited  men  and  the  moaning  cry  of  the  woman,  was  for  a  moment 
intense. 

"  Isn't  this  Mr.  Hurley  ?"  asked  Blake,  suddenly,  as  though  to  make 
sure,  and  turning  one  instant  from  his  furious  glare  at  his  superior 
officer.  The  stranger,  still  held,  though  no  longer  struggling,  replied 
between  his  set  teeth, — 

"  Certainly.     I've  told  him  so." 

"  By  heaven,  Buxton,  is  there  no  limit  to  your  asininity  ?  What 
fearful  work  will  you  do  next  ?" 

"  I'll  arrest  you,  sir,  if  you  speak  another  disrespectful  word !" 
thundered  Buxton,  recovering  consciousness  that  as  commanding  officer 
he  could  defend  himself  against  Blake's  assault. 

"  Do  it  and  be you  know  what  I  would  say  if  a  lady  were  not 

present !  Do  it,  if  you  think  you  can  stand  having  this  thing  ventilated 
by  a  court.  Pah  !  I  can't  waste  words  on  you.  Who's  gone  for  the 
doctor  ?  Here,  you  men,  let  go  of  Mr.  Hurley  now.  Help  me,  Mr. 
Hurley,  please.  Get  your  wife  back  to  her  room.  Bring  me  some 
water,  one  of  you."  And  with  that  he  was  bending  over  Hayne  and 
unbuttoning  the  fatigue-uniform  in  which  he  was  still  dressed.  Another 
moment,  and  the  doctor  had  come  in,  and  with  him  halt'  the  young 
officers  of  the  garrison.  Rayner  was  led  away  to  his  own  quarters. 
Buxton,  dazed  and  frightened  now,  ordered  the  guards  back  to  their 
post,  and  stood  pondering  over  the  enormity  of  his  blunder.  No  one 


THE  DESERTER.  127 

spoke  to  him  or  paid  the  faintest  attention  other  than  to  elbow  him  out 
of  the  way  occasionally.  The  doctor  never  so  much  as  noticed  him. 
Blake  had  briefly  recounted  the  catastrophe  to  those  who  first  arrived, 
and  as  the  story  went  from  mouth  to  mouth  it  grew  no  better  for  Buxton. 
Once  he  turned  short  on  Mr.  Foster  and  in  aggrieved  and  sullen  tone 
remarked, — 

"  I  thought  you  fellows  in  the  Biflers  said  he  had  no  relations." 

"  We  weren't  apt  to  be  invited  to  meet  them  if  he  had ;  but  I  don't 
know  that  anybody  was  in  position  to  know  anything  about  it.  What's 
that  got  to  do  witli  this  affair,  I'd  like  to  hear  ?" 

At  last  somebody  took  him  home.  Mrs.  Waldron,  meantime,  had 
arrived  and  been  admitted  to  Mrs.  Hurley's  room.  The  doctor  refused 
to  go  to  Captain  Rayner's,  even  when  a  messenger  came  from  Mrs. 
Rayner  herself.  He  referred  her  to  his  assistant,  Dr.  Grimes.  Hayne 
had  regained  consciousness,  but  was  sorely  shaken.  He  had  been  floored 
by  a  blow  from  the  butt  of  a  musket ;  but  the  report  that  he  was  shot 
proved  happily  untrue.  His  right  hand  still  lay  near  the  hilt  of  his 
light  sword :  there  was  little  question  that  he  had  raised  his  weapon 
against  a  superior  officer  and  would  have  used  it  with  telling  effect. 

Few  people  slept  that  night  along  officers'  row.  Never  had  Warrener 
heard  of  such  excitement.  Buxton  knew  not  what  to  do.  He  paced  the 
floor  in  agony  of  mind,  for  he  well  understood  that  there  was  no  shirk- 
ing the  responsibility.  From  beginning  to  end  he  was  the  cause  of  the 
whole  catastrophe.  He  had  gone  so  far  as  to  order  his  corporal  to  fire, 
and  he  knew  it  could  be  proved  against  him.  Thank  God,  the  per- 
plexed corporal  had  shot  high,  and  the  other  men,  barring  the  one  who 
had  saved  Kayner  from  a  furious  lunge  of  the  lieutenant's  sword,  had 
used  their  weapons  as  gingerly  and  reluctantly  as  possible.  At  the  very 
least,  he  knew,  an  investigation  and  fearful  scandal  must  come  of  it. 
Night  though  it  was,  he  sent  for  the  acting  adjutant  and  several  of  his 
brother  captains,  and,  setting  refreshments  before  them,  besought  their 
advice.  He  was  still  commanding  officer  de  jure,  but  he  had  lost  all 
stomach  for  its  functions.  He  would  have  been  glad  to  send  for  Blake 
and  beg  his  pardon  for  submitting  to  his  insubordinate  and  abusive  lan- 
guage, if  that  course  could  have  stopped  inquiry ;  but  he  well  knew  that 
the  whole  thing  would  be  noised  abroad  in  less  than  no  time.  At  first 
he  thought  to  give  orders  against  the  telegraph-operator's  sending  any 
messages  concerning  the  matter ;  but  that  would  have  been  only  a  tem- 
porary hinderance :  he  could  not  control  the  instruments  and  operators 


128  THE  DESERTER. 

in  town,  only  three  miles  away.  He  almost  wished  he  had  been 
knocked  down,  shot,  or  stabbed  in  the  mMee;  but  he  had  kept  in  the 
rear  when  the  skirmish  began,  and  Rayner  and  the  corporal  were  the 
sufferers.  They  had  been  knocked  "  endwise"  by  Mr.  Hurley's  prac- 
tised fists  after  Hayne  was  struck  down  by  the  corporal's  musket.  It 
was  the  universal  sentiment  among  the  officers  of  the  — th  as  they 
scattered  to  their  homes  that  Buxton  had  "  wound  himself  up  this  time, 
anyhow ;"  and  no  one  had  any  sympathy  for  him, — not  one.  The  very 
best  light  in  which  he  could  tell  the  story  only  showed  the  affair  as  a 
flagrant  and  inexcusable  outrage. 

Captain  Rayner,  too,  was  in  fearful  plight.  He  had  simply  obeyed 
orders ;  but  all  the  old  story  of  his  persecution  of  Hayne  would  now  be 
revived ;  all  men  would  see  in  his  participation  in  the  affair  only  addi- 
tional reason  to  adjudge  him  cruelly  persistent  in  his  hatred  of  the  young 
officer,  and,  in  view  of  the  utter  ruthlessness  and  wrong  of  this  assault, 
would  be  more  than  ever  confident  of  the  falsity  of  his  position  in  the 
original  case.  As  he  was  slowly  led  up-stairs  to  his  room  and  his  tear- 
ful wife  and  silent  sister-in-law  bathed  and  cleansed  his  wound,  he  saw 
with  frightful  clearness  how  the  crush  of  circumstances  was  now  upon 
him  and  his  good  name.  Great  heaven  !  how  those  words  of  Hayne's 
five  years  before  rang,  throbbed,  burned,  beat  like  trip-hammers  through 
his  whirling  brain  !  It  seemed  as  though  they  followed  him  and  his 
fortunes  like  a  curse.  He  sat  silent,  stunned,  awe-stricken  at  the  force 
of  the  calamity  that  had  befallen  him.  How  could  he  ever  induce  an 
officer  and  a  gentleman  to  believe  that  he  was  no  instigator  in  this 
matter? — that  it  was  all  Buxton's  doing,  Buxton's  low  imagination 
that  had  conceived  the  possibility  of  such  a  crime  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Hayne,  and  Buxton's  blundering,  bull-headed  abuse  of  authority  that 
had  capped  the  fatal  climax  ?  It  was  some  time  before  his  wife  could 
get  him  to  speak  at  all.  She  was  hysterically  bemoaning  the  fate  that 
had  brought  them  into  contact  with  such  people,  and  from  time  to  time 
giving  vent  to  the  comforting  assertion  that  never  had  there  been  a 
cloud  on  their  domestic  or  regimental  sky  until  that  wretch  had  been 
assigned  to  the  Riflers.  She  knew  from  the  hurried  and  guarded  ex- 
planations of  Dr.  Grimes  and  one  or  two  young  officers  who  helped 
Rayner  home  that  the  fracas  had  occurred  at  Mr.  Hayne's, — that  there 
had  been  a  mistake  for  which  her  husband  was  not  responsible,  but  that 
Captain  Buxton  was  entirely  to  blame.  But  her  husband's  ashen  face 
told  her  a  story  of  something  far  deeper  :  she  knew  that  now  he  wa* 


THE  DESERTER.  129 

involved  in  fearful  trouble,  and,  whatever  may  have  been  her  inner- 
most thoughts,  it  was  the  first  and  irresistible  impulse  to  throw  all  the 
blame  upon  her  scapegoat.  Miss  Travers,  almost  as  pale  and  quite  as 
silent  as  the  captain,  was  busying  herself  in  helping  her  sister ;  but  she 
could  with  difficulty  restrain  her  longing  to  bid  her  be  silent.  She,  too, 
had  endeavored  to  learn  from  her  escort  on  their  hurried  homeward 
rush  across  the  parade  what  the  nature  of  the  disturbance  had  been. 
'  She,  too,  had  suggested  Clancy,  but  the  officer  by  her  side  set  his  teeth 
as  he  replied  that  he  wished  it  had  been  Clancy.  She  had  heard,  too, 
the  message  brought  by  a  cavalry  trumpeter  from  Mr.  Blake:  he 
wanted  Captain  Ray  to  come  to  Mr.  Hayne's  as  soon  as  he  had  seen 
Mrs.  Ray  safely  home,  and  would  he  please  ask  Mrs.  Stannard  to  come 
with  him  at  the  same  time  ?  Why  should  Mr.  Blake  want  Mrs.  Stan- 
nard at  Mr.  Hayne's  ?  She  saw  Mr.  Foster  run  up  and  speak  a  few 
words  to  Mrs.  Waldron,  and  heard  that  lady  reply,  "  Certainly.  I  will 
go  with  you  now."  What  could  it  mean  ?  At  last,  as  she  was  return- 
ing to  her  sister's  room  after  a  moment's  absence,  she  heard  a  question 
at  which  her  heart  stood  still.  It  was  Mrs.  Rayner  who  asked, — 
"  But  the  creature  was  there,  was  she  not  ?" 
The  answer  sounded  more  like  a  moan  of  anguish  : 

"  The  creature  was  his  sister.     It  was  her  husband  who " 

But,  as  Captain  Rayner  buried  his  battered  face  in  his  hands  at  this 
juncture,  the  rest  of  the  sentence  was  inaudible.  Miss  Travers  had 
heard  quite  enough,  however.  She  stood  there  one  moment,  appalled, 
dropped  upon  the  floor  the  bandage  she  had  been  making,  turned  and 
sought  her  room,  and  was  seen  no  more  that  night. 

Over  the  day  or  two  that  followed  this  affair  the  veil  of  silence 
may  best  be  drawn,  in  order  to  give  time  for  the  sediment  of  truth 
to  settle  through  the  whirlpool  of  stories  in  violent  circulation.  The 
colonel  came  back  on  the  first  train  after  the  adjournment  of  the  court, 
and  could  hardly  wait  for  that  formality.  Contrary  to  his  custom  of 
"  sleeping  on"  a  question,  he  was  in  his  office  within  half  an  hour 
after  his  return  to  the  post,  and  from  that  time  until  near  tattoo  was 
busily  occupied  taking  the  statements  of  the  active  participants  in  the 
affair.  This  was  three  days  after  its  occurrence ;  and  Captain  Rayner, 
though  up  and  able  to  be  about,  had  not  left  his  quarters.  Mrs.  Ray- 
ner had  abandoned  her  trip  to  the  East,  for  the  present  at  least.  Mr. 
Hayne  still  lay  weak  and  prostrate  in  his  darkened  room,  attended 
hourly  by  Dr.  Pease,  who  feared  brain-fever,  and  nursed  assiduously 
F* 


130  THE  DESERTER. 

by  Mrs.  Hurley,  for  whom  Mrs.  Waldron,  Mrs.  Stannard,  and  many 
other  ladies  in  the  garrison  could  not  do  enough  to  content  themselves. 
Mr.  Hurley's  wrist  was  badly  sprained  and  in  a  sling ;  but  the  colonel 
went  purposely  to  call  upon  him  and  to  shake  his  other  hand,  and  he 
begged  to  be  permitted  to  see  Mrs.  Hurley,  who  came  in  pale  and  soft- 
eyed  and  with  a  gentle  demeanor  that  touched  the  colonel  more  than 
he  could  tell.  Her  cheek  flushed  for  a  moment  as  he  bent  low  over 
her  hand  and  told  her  how  bitterly  he  regretted  that  his  absence  from 
the  post  had  resulted  in  so  grievous  an  experience :  it  was  not  the 
welcome  he  and  his  regiment  would  have  given  her  had  they  known  of 
her  intended  visit.  To  Mr.  Hurley  he  briefly  said  that  he  need  not 
fear  but  that  full  justice  would  be  meted  out  to  the  instigator  or  in- 
stigators of  the  assault ;  but,  as  a  something  to  make  partial  amends 
for  their  suffering,  he  said  that  nothing  now  could  check  the  turn  of 
the  tide  in  their  brother's  favor.  All  the  cavalry  officers  except  Bux- 
ton,  all  the  infantry  officers  except  Rayner,  had  already  been  to  call 
upon  him  since  the  night  of  the  occurrence,  and  had  striven  to  show 
how  distressed  they  were  over  the  outrageous  blunders  of  their  tem- 
porary commander.  Buxton  had  written  a  note  expressive  of  a  desire 
to  see  him  and  "explain,"  but  was  informed  that  explanations  from 
him  simply  aggravated  the  injury ;  and  Rayner,  crushed  and  humili- 
ated, was  fairly  in  hiding  in  his  room,  too  sick  at  heart  to  want  to 
see  anybody,  and  waiting  for  the  action  of  the  authorities  in  the  con- 
fident expectation  that  nothing  less  than  court-martial  and  disgrace 
would  be  his  share  of  the  outcome.  He  would  gladly  have  resigned 
and  gone  at  once,  but  that  would  have  been  resigning  under  virtual 
charges  :  he  had  to  stay,  and  his  wife  had  to  stay  with  him,  and  Nellie 
with  her.  By  this  time  Nellie  Travers  did  not  want  to  go.  She  had 
but  one  thought  now, — to  make  amends  to  Mr.  Hayne  for  the  wrong  her 
thoughts  had  done  him.  It  was  time  for  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  to  come 
to  the  wide  West  and  look  after  his  interests ;  but  Mrs.  Rayner  had 
ceased  to  urge,  wrhile  he  continued  to  implore  her  to  bring  Nellie  East 
at  once.  Almost  any  man  as  rich  and  independent  as  Steven  Van 
Antwerp  would  have  gone  to  the  scene  and  settled  matters  for  himself. 
Singularly  enough,  this  one  solution  of  the  problem  seemed  never  to 
occur  to  him  as  feasible. 

Meantime,  the  colonel  had  patiently  unravelled  the  threads  and  had 
brought  to  light  the  whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  It  made 
a  singularly  simple  story,  after  all  •  but  that  was  so  much  the  worse  for 


THE  DESERTER.  131 

Buxton.  The  only  near  relation  Mr.  Hayne  had  in  the  world  was  thia 
one  younger  sister,  who  six  years  before  had  married  a  manly,  ener- 
getic fellow,  a  civil  engineer  in  the  employ  of  an  Eastern  railway. 
During  Hayne's  "  mountain-station"  exile  Hurley  had  brought  his  wife 
to  Denver,  where  far  better  prospects  awaited  him.  He  won  promotion 
in  his  profession,  and  was  now  one  of  the  principal  engineers  employed 
by  a  road  running  new  lines  through  the  Colorado  Rockies.  Journey- 
ing to  Salt  Lake,  he  came  around  by  way  of  Warrener,  so  that  his 
wife  and  he  might  have  a  look  at  the  brother  she  had  not  seen  in  years. 
Their  train  was  due  there  early  in  the  afternoon,  but  was  blocked  by 
drifts  and  did  not  reach  the  station  until  late  at  night.  There  they 
found  a  note  from  him  begging  them  to  take  a  carriage  they  would  find 
waiting  for  them  and  come  right  out  and  spend  the  night  at  his  quarters  : 
he  would  send  them  back  in  abundant  time  to  catch  the  westward  train 
in  the  morning.  He  could  not  come  in,  because  that  involved  the 
necessity  of  asking  his  captain's  permission,  and  they  knew  his  relations 
with  that  captain.  It  was  her  shadow  Buxton  had  seen  on  the  window- 
screen  ;  and  as  none  of  Buxton's  acquaintances  had  ever  mentioned  that 
Hayne  had  any  relations,  and  as  Hayne,  in  fact,  had  had  no  one  for 
years  to  talk  to  about  his  personal  affairs,  nobody  but  himself  and  the 
telegraph-operator  at  the  post  really  knew  of  their  sudden  visit.  Bux- 
ton, being  an  unmitigated  cad,  had  put  the  worst  interpretation  on  his 
discovery,  and,  in  his  eagerness  to  clinch  the  evidence  of  conduct  unbe- 
coming an  officer  and  a  gentleman  upon  Mr.  Hayne,  had  taken  no  wise 
head  into  his  confidence.  Never  dreaming  that  the  shadow  could  be  that 
of  a  blood-relation,  never  doubting  that  a  fair,  frail  companion  from  the 
frontier  town  was  the  explanation  of  Mr.  Kayne's  preference  for  that 
out-of-the  way  house  and  late  hours,  he  stated  his  discovery  to  Rayner 
as  a  positive  fact,  going  so  far  as  to  say  that  his  sentries  had  recognized 
her  as  she  drove  away  in  the  carriage.  If  he  had  not  been  an  ass  as 
well  as  a  cad,  he  would  have  interviewed  the  driver  of  the  carriage ; 
but  he  had  jumped  at  his  theory,  and  his  sudden  elevation  to  the  com- 
mand of  the  post  gave  him  opportunity  to  carry  out  his  virtuous  de- 
termination that  no  such  goings-on  should  disgrace  his  administration. 
He  gave  instructions  to  certain  soldier  clerks  and  "daily-duty"  men 
employed  in  the  quartermaster,  commissary,  and  ordnance  offices  along 
Prairie  Avenue  to  keep  their  eyes  open  and  let  him  know  of  any  visi- 
tors coming  out  to  Hayne's  by  night,  and  if  a  lady  came  in  a  carriage  he 
was  to  be  called  at  once.  Mr.  Hurley  promised  that  on  their  return 


132  THE  DESERTER. 

from  Salt  Lake  they  would  come  back  by  way  of  Warrener  and  spena 
two  days  with  Hayne,  since  only  an  hour  or  two  had  they  enjoyed  of  his 
company  on  their  way  West ;  and  the  very  day  that  the  officers  went  off 
to  the  court  came  the  telegram  saying  the  Hurleys  would  arrive  that 
evening.  Hayne  had  already  talked  over  their  prospective  visit  with 
Major  Waldron,  and  the  latter  had  told  his  wife ;  but  all  intercourse 
of  a  friendly  character  was  at  an  end  between  them  and  the  Rayners 
and  Buxtons ;  there  were  no  more  gossipy  chats  among  the  ladies.  In- 
deed, it  so  happened  that  only  to  one  or  two  people  had  Mrs.  Waldron 
had  time  to  mention  that  Mr.  Hayne's  sister  was  coming,  and  neither 
the  Rayners  nor  Buxtons  had  heard  of  it ;  neither  had  Nellie  Travers, 
for  it  was  after  the  evening  of  her  last  visit  that  Mrs.  Waldron  was  told. 
Hayne  ran  with  his  telegram  to  the  major,  and  the  latter  had  in- 
troduced himself  and  Major  Stannard  to  Mrs.  Hurley  when,  after  a 
weary  wait  of  some  hours,  the  train  arrived.  Blake,  too,  was  there,  on 
the  lookout  for  some  friends,  and  he  was  presented  to  Mrs.  Hurley  while 
her  husband  was  attending  to  some  matters  about  the  baggage.  The 
train  went  on  eastward,  carrying  the  field-officers  with  it.  Blake  had 
to  go  with  his  friends  back  to  the  post,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hurley,  after 
the  former  had  attended  to  some  business  and  seen  some  railway  asso- 
ciates of  his  at  the  hotel,  took  the  carriage  they  had  had  before  and 
drove  out  to  the  garrison,  where  Private  Schweinkopf  saw  the  lady  rap- 
turously welcomed  by  Lieutenant  Hayne  and  escorted  into  the  house, 
while  Mr.  Hurley  remained  settling  with  the  driver  out  in  the  darkness. 
It  was  not  long  before  the  commanding  officer  pro  tern,  was  called  from 
the  hop-room,  where  the  dance  was  going  on  delightfully,  and  notified 
that  the  mysterious  visitor  had  again  appeared,  with  evident  intention 
of  spending  the  night,  as  the  carriage  had  returned  to  town.  "  Why, 
certainly,"  reasoned  Buxton.  "It's  the  very  night  he  would  choose, 
since  everybody  will  be  at  the  hop  :  no  one  will  be  apt  to  interfere,  and 
everybody  will  be  unusually  drowsy  and  less  inclined  to  take  notice  in 
the  morning."  Here  was  ample  opportunity  for  a  brilliant  stroke  of 
work.  He  would  first  satisfy  himself  she  was  there,  then  surround 
the  house  with  sentries  so  that  she  could  not  escape,  while  he,  with 
the  officer  of  the  day  and  the  corporal  of  the  guard,  entered  the  house 
and  confronted  him  and  her.  That  would  wind  up  Mr.  Hayne's 
career  beyond  question :  nothing  short  of  dismissal  could  result. 
Over  he  went,  full  of  his  project,  listened  at  Hayne's  like  the  eaves- 
dropping sneak  he  was,  saw  again  the  shadow  of  the  graceful  form 


THE  DESERTER.  133 

and  heard  the  silvery,  happy  laugh,  and  then  it  was  ne  sent  for  Ray- 
ner.  It  was  near  midnight  when  he  led  his  forces  to  the  attack.  A 
light  was  now  burning  in  the  second  story,  which  he  thought  must  be 
Sam's ;  but  the  lights  had  been  turned  low  in  the  parlor,  and  the 
occupants  had  disappeared  from  sight  and  hearing.  By  inquiry  he 
had  ascertained  that  Hayne's  bedroom  was  just  back  of  the  parlor. 
A  man  was  stationed  at  the  back  door,  others  at  the  sides,  with  orders 
to  arrest  any  one  who  attempted  to  escape ;  then  softly  he  stepped  to  the 
front  door,  telling  Rayner  to  follow  him,  and  the  corporal  of  the  guard 
to  follow  both.  To  his  surprise,  the  door  was  unlocked,  and  a  light 
was  burning  in  the  hall.  Never  knocking,  he  stepped  in,  marched 
through  the  hall  into  the  parlor,  which  was  empty,  and,  signalling 
"  Come  on"  to  his  followers,  crossed  the  parlor  and  seized  the  knob 
of  the  bedroom  door.  It  was  locked.  Rayner,  looking  white  and  wor- 
ried, stood  just  behind  him,  and  the  corporal  but  a  step  farther  back. 
Before  Buxton  could  knock  and  demand  admission,  which  was  his 
intention,  quick  footsteps  came  flying  down  the  stairs  from  the  second 
story,  and  the  trio  wheeled  about  in  surprise,  to  find  Mr.  Hayne,  dressed 
in  his  fatigue  uniform,  standing  at  the  threshold  and  staring  at  them 
with  mingled  astonishment,  incredulity,  and  indignation.  A  sudden 
light  seemed  to  dawn  upon  him  as  he  glanced  from  one  to  the  other. 
With  a  leap  like  a  cat  he  threw  himself  upon  Buxton,  hurled  him 
back,  and  stood  at  the  closed  door  confronting  them  with  blazing  eyes 
and  clinching  fists. 

"  Open  that  door,  sir  I"  cried  Buxton.  "  You  have  a  woman  hid- 
den there.  Open,  or  stand  aside." 

"  You  hounds  !  I'll  kill  the  first  man  who  dares  enter  !"  was  the 
furious  answer ;  and  Hayne  had  snatched  from  the  wall  his  long  in- 
fantry sword  and  flashed  the  blade  in  the  lamplight.  Rayner  made 
a  step  forward,  half  irresolute.  Hayne  leaped  at  him  like  a  tiger. 
"  Fire  !  Quick  !"  shouted  Buxton,  in  wild  excitement.  Bang  !  went 
the  carbine,  and  the  bullet  crashed  through  the  plaster  overhead,  and, 
seeing  the  gleaming  steel  at  his  superior's  throat,  the  corporal  had  sent 
the  heavy  butt  crashing  upon  the  lieutenant's  skull  only  just  in  time : 
there  would  have  been  murder  in  another  second.  The  next  instant  he 
was  standing  on  his  own  head  in  the  corner,  seeing  a  multitude  of 
twinkling,  whirling  stars,  from  the  midst  of  which  Captain  Rayner 
was  reeling  backward  over  a  chair  and  a  number  of  soldiers  were  rush  • 

12 


134  THE  DESERTER. 

ing  upon  a  powerful  picture  of  furious  manhood, — a  stranger  in  shirt- 
sleeves, who  had  leaped  from  the  bedroom. 

Told  as  it  was — as  it  had  to  be — all  over  the  department,  there 
seemed  but  one  thing  to  say,  and  that  referred  to  Buxton  :  "  Well  I 
isn't  he  a  phenomenal  ass  ?" 

XVI. 

Mr.  Hayne  was  up  and  around  again.  The  springtime  was  coming, 
and  the  prairie  roads  were  good  and  dry,  and  the  doctor  had  told  him 
he  must  live  in  the  open  air  awhile  and  ride  and  walk  and  drive.  He 
stood  in  no  want  of  "  mounts,"  for  three  or  four  of  his  cavalry  friends 
were  ready  to  lend  him  a  saddle-horse  any  day.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hurley, 
after  making  many  pleasant  acquaintances,  had  gone  on  to  Denver,  and 
Captain  Buxton  was  congratulating  himself  that  he,  at  least,  had  not 
run  foul  of  the  engineer's  powerful  fists.  Buxton  was  not  in  arrest, 
for  the  case  had  proved  a  singular  "  poser."  It  occurred  during  the 
temporary  absence  of  the  colonel :  he  could  not  well  place  the  captain 
under  arrest  for  things  he  had  done  when  acting  as  post  commander. 
In  obedience  to  his  orders  from  department  head-quarters,  he  made  hig 
report  of  the  affair,  and  indicated  that  Captain  Buxton's  conduct  had 
been  inexcusable.  Rayner  had  done  nothing  but,  as  was  proved,  re- 
luctantly obey  the  captain's  orders,  so  he  could  not  be  tried.  Hayne, 
who  had  committed  one  of  the  most  serious  crimes  in  the  military  cata- 
logue,— that  of  drawing  and  raising  a  weapon  against  an  officer  who 
was  in  discharge  of  his  duty  (Rayner), — had  the  sympathy  of  the  whole 
command,  and  nobody  would  prefer  charges  against  him.  The  general 
decided  to  have  the  report  go  up  to  division  head-quarters,  and  thence 
it  went  with  its  varied  comments  and  endorsements  to  Washington  ; 
and  now  a  court  of  inquiry  was  talked  of.  Meantime,  poor  bewildered 
Buxton  was  let  severely  alone.  What  made  him  utterly  miserable  was 
the  fact  that  in  his  own  regiment,  the  — th,  nobody  spoke  of  it  except 
as  something  that  everybody  knew  was  sure  to  happen  the  moment  he 
got  in  command.  If  it  hadn't  been  that  'twould  have  been  something 
else.  The  only  certainty  was  that  Buxton  would  never  lose  a  chance 
of  making  an  ass  of  himself.  Instead  of  being  furious  with  him,  the 
whole  regiment — officers  and  men — simply  ridiculed  and  laughed  at 
him.  He  had  talked  of  preferring  charges  against  Blake  for  insubordi- 
nation, and  asked  the  adjutant  what  he  thought  of  it.  It  was  the  first 


THE  DESERTEE.  135 

time  he  had  spoken  to  the  adjutant  for  weeks,  and  the  adjutant  rushed 
out  of  the  office  to  tell  the  crowd  to  come  in  and  "  hear  Buxton's  latest." 
It  began  to  look  as  though  nothing  serious  would  ever  come  of  the 
affair,  until  Kayner  reappeared  and  people  saw  how  very  ill  he  was.  Dr. 
Pease  had  been  consulted ;  and  it  was  settled  that  he  as  well  as  his  wife 
must  go  away  for  several  months  and  have  complete  rest  and  change. 
It  was  decided  that  they  would  leave  by  the  1st  of  May.  All  this  Mr. 
Hayne  heard  through  his  kind  friend  Mrs.  Waldron. 

One  day  when  he  first  began  to  sit  up,  and  before  he  had  been  out 
at  all,  she  came  and  sat  with  him  in  his  sunshiny  parlor.  There  had 
been  a  silence  for  a  moment  as  she  looked  around  upon  the  few  pictures 
and  upon  that  bareness  and  coldness  which,  do  what  he  will,  no  man 
can  eradicate  from  his  abiding-place  until  he  calls  in  the  deft  and  dainty 
hand  of  woman. 

"  I  shall  be  so  glad  when  you  have  a  wife,  Mr.  Hayne  !"  was  her 
quiet  comment. 

"  So  shall  I,  Mrs.  Waldron,"  was  the  response. 

"  And  isn't  it  high  time  we  were  beginning  to  hear  of  a  choice  ? 
Forgive  my  intrusiveuess,  but  that  was  the  very  matter  of  which  the 
major  and  I  were  talking  as  he  brought  me  over." 

"  There  is  something  to  be  done  first,  Mrs.  Waldron,"  he  answered. 
"  I  cannot  offer  any  woman  a  clouded  name.  It  is  not  enough  that 
people  should  begin  to  believe  that  I  was  innocent  and  my  persecutors 
utterly  in  error,  if  not  perjured.  I  must  be  able  to  show  who  was  the 
real  culprit,  and  that  is  not  easy.  The  doctor  and  I  thought  we  saw  a 
way  not  long  ago ;  but  it  proved  delusive."  And  he  sighed  deeply.  "  I 
had  expected  to  see  the  major  about  it  the  very  day  he  got  back  from 
the  court ;  but  we  have  had  no  chance  to  talk." 

"  Mr.  Hayne,"  she  said,  impulsively,  "  a  woman's  intuition  is  not 
always  at  fault.  Tell  me  if  you  believe  that  any  one  on  the  post  has 
any  inkling  of  the  truth.  I  have  a  reason  for  asking." 

"  I  did  think  it  possible,  Mrs.  Waldron.  I  cannot  be  certain  now; 
and  it's  too  late,  anyway." 

"  How,  too  late  ?    What's  too  late  ?" 

He  paused  a  moment,  a  deeper  shadow  than  usual  on  his  face ;  then 
he  lifted  his  head  and  looked  fairly  at  her : 

"  I  should  not  have  said  that,  Mrs.  Waldron.  It  can  never  be  too 
late.  But  what  I  mean  is  that — just  now  I  spoke  of  offering  no  woman 


136  THE  DESERTER. 

a  clouded  name.  Even  if  it  were  unclouded,  I  could  not  offer  it  where 
I  would." 

"  Because  you  have  heard  of  the  engagement  ?"  was  the  quick,  eager 
question.  There  was  no  instant  of  doubt  in  the  woman  as  to  where  the 
offering  would  be  made,  if  it  only  could. 

"  I  knew  of  the  engagement  only  a  day  ago,"  he  answered,  with 
stern  effort  at  self-control.  "  Blake  was  speaking  of  her,  and  it  came 
out  all  of  a  sudden." 

He  turned  his  head  away  again.  It  was  more  than  Mrs.  Waldron 
could  stand.  She  leaned  impetuously  towards  him,  and  put  her  hand 
on  his : 

"  Mr.  Hayne,  that  is  no  engagement  of  heart  to  heart.  It  is  entirely 
a  thing  of  Mrs.  Rayner's  doing ;  and  I  know  it.  She  is  poor, — depend- 
ent,— and  has  been  simply  sold  into  bondage." 

"  And  you  think  she  cares  nothing  for  the  position,  the  wealth  and 
social  advantages,  this  would  give  her  ?  Ah,  Mrs.  Waldron,  consider." 

"  I  have  considered.  Mr.  Hayne,  if  I  were  a  man,  like  you,  that 
child  should  never  go  back  to  him.  And  they  are  going  next  week. 
You  must  get  well." 

It  was  remarked  that  Mr.  Hayne  was  out  surprisingly  quick  for 
a  fellow  who  had  been  so  recently  threatened  with  brain-fever.  The 
Rayners  were  to  go  East  at  once,  so  it  was  said,  though  the  captain's 
leave  of  absence  had  not  yet  been  ordered.  The  colonel  could  grant 
him  seven  days  at  any  time,  and  he  had  telegraphic  notification  that 
there  would  be  no  objection  when  the  formal  application  reached  the 
War  Department.  Rayner  called  at  the  colonel's  office  and  asked  that 
he  might  be  permitted  to  start  with  his  wife  and  sister.  His  second 
lieutenant  would  move  in  and  occupy  his  quarters  and  take  care  of  all 
his  personal  effects  during  their  absence ;  and  Lieutenant  Hayne  was  a 
most  thorough  officer,  and  he  felt  that  in  turning  over  his  company  to 
him  he  left  it  in  excellent  hands.  The  colonel  saw  the  misery  in  the 
captain's  face,  and  he  was  touched  by  both  looks  and  words : 

"You  must  not  take  this  last  affair  too  much  to  heart,  Captain 
Rayner.  We  in  the  — th  have  known  Captain  Buxton  so  many  years 
that  with  us  there  is  no  question  as  to  where  all  the  blame  lies.  It 
seems,  too,  to  be  clearly  understood  by  Mr.  Hayne.  As  for  your 
previous  ideas  of  that  officer,  I  consider  it  too  delicate  a  matter  to 
speak  of.  You  must  see,  however,  how  entirely  beyond  reproach  his 
general  character  appears  to  have  been.  But  here's  another  matter : 


THE  DESERTER.  137 

Clancy's  discharge  has  arrived.     Does  the  old  fellow  know  you  had 
requested  it?" 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Rayner,  with  hesitation  and  embarrassment. 
"We  wanted  to  keep  him  straight,  as  I  told  you  we  would,  and  he 
would  probably  get  on  a  big  tear  if  he  knew  his  service-days  were 
numbered.  I  didn't  look  for  its  being  granted  for  forty-eight  hours 
yet." 

"  Well,  he  will  know  it  before  night ;  and  no  doubt  he  will  be 
badly  cut  up.  Clancy  was  a  fine  soldier  before  he  married  that  har- 
ridan of  a  woman." 

"  She  has  made  him  a  good  wife  since  they  came  into  the  Riflers, 
colonel,  and  has  taken  mighty  good  care  of  the  old  fellow." 

"  It  is  more  than  she  did  in  the  — th,  sir.  She  was  a  handsome, 
showy  woman  when  I  first  saw  her, — before  my  promotion  to  the  regi- 
ment,— and  Clancy  was  one  of  the  finest  soldiers  in  the  brigade  the  last 
year  of  the  war.  She  ran  through  all  his  money,  though,  and  in  the 
— th  we  looked  upon  her  as  the  real  cause  of  his  break-down, — especially 
after  her  affair  with  that  sergeant  who  deserted.  You've  heard  of  him, 
probably.  He  disappeared  after  the  Battle  Butte  campaign,  and  we 
hoped  he'd  run  off  with  Mrs.  Clancy ;  but  he  hadn't.  She  was  there 
when  we  got  back,  big  as  ever,  and  growing  ugly." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Mrs.  Clancy  had  a  lover  when  she  was  in  the 
-th?" 

"  Certainly,  Captain  Rayner.  We  supposed  it  was  commonly  known. 
He  was  a  fine-looking,  black-eyed,  dark-haired,  dashing  fellow,  of  good 
education,  a  great  swell  among  the  men  the  short  time  he  was  with  us, 
and  Mrs.  Clancy  made  a  dead  set  at  him  from  the  start.  He  never 
seemed  to  care  for  her  very  much." 

"  This  is  something  I  never  heard  of,"  said  Rayner,  with  grave  face, 
"  and  it  will  be  a  good  deal  of  a  shock  to  my  wife,  for  she  had  arranged 
to  take  her  East  with  Clancy  and  Kate,  and  they  were  to  invest  their 
money  in  some  little  business  at  her  old  home." 

"  Yes  :  it  was  mainly  on  the  woman's  account  we  wouldn't  re-enlist 
Clancy  in  the  — th.  We  could  stand  him,  but  she  was  too  much  for  us, 
— and  for  the  other  sergeant,  too.  He  avoided  her  before  we  started  on 
the  campaign,  I  fancy.  Odd !  I  can't  think  of  his  name. — Billings, 
what  was  the  name  of  that  howling  swell  of  a  sergeant  who  was  in 
Hull's  troop  at  Battle  Butte, — time  Hull  was  killed  ?  I  mean  the  man 
that  Mrs.  Clancy  was  said  to  have  eloped  with." 

12* 


138  THE  DESERTER. 

"  Sergeant  Gower,  sir,"  said  the  adjutant,  without  looking  up  from 
his  work.  He  did  look  up,  however,  when  a  moment  after  the  captain 
hurriedly  left  the  office,  and  he  saw  that  Rayner's  face  was  deathly 
white  :  it  was  ghastly. 

"  What  took  Rayner  off  so  suddenly  ?"  said  the  colonel,  wheeling 
around  in  his  chair. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  unless  there  was  something  to  startle  him  in 
the  name." 

"Why  should  there  be?" 

"  There  are  those  who  think  that  Gower  got  away  with  more  than 
his  horse  and  arms,  colonel :  he  was  not  at  Battle  Butte,  though,  and 
that  is  what  made  it  a  mystery." 

"Where  was  he  then?" 

"  Back  with  the  wagon-train,  sir ;  and  he  never  got  in  sight  of  the 
Buttes  or  Rayner's  battalion.  You  know  Rayner  had  four  companies 
there." 

"  I  don't  see  how  Gower  could  have  taken  the  money,  if  that's 
what  you  mean,  if  he  never  came  up  to  the  Buttes :  Rayner  swore  it 
was  there  in  Hull's  original  package.  Then,  too,  how  could  Gower's 
name  affect  him  if  he  had  never  seen  him  ?" 

"  Possibly  he  has  heard  something.     Clancy  has  been  talking." 

"  I  have  looked  into  that,"  said  the  colonel.  "  Clancy  denies  know- 
ing anything, — says  he  was  drunk  and  didn't  know  what  he  was  talk- 
ing about." 

All  the  same  it  was  queer,  thought  the  adjutant,  and  he  greatly 
wanted  to  see  the  doctor  and  talk  with  him ;  but  by  the  time  his  office- 
work  was  done  the  doctor  had  gone  to  town,  and  when  he  came  back 
he  was  sent  for  to  the  laundress's  quarters,  where  Mrs.  Clancy  was  in 
hysterics  and  Michael  had  again  been  very  bad. 

Soon  after  the  captain's  return  to  his  quarters,  it  seems,  a  messenger 
was  sent  from  Mrs.  Rayner  requesting  Mrs.  Clancy  to  come  and  see 
her  at  once.  She  was  ushered  up-stairs  to  madame's  own  apartment, 
much  to  Miss  Travers's  surprise,  and  that  young  lady  was  further  as- 
tonished, when  Mrs.  Clancy  reappeared,  nearly  an  hour  later,  to  see 
that  she  had  been  weeping  violently.  The  house  was  in  some  disorder, 
most  of  the  trunks  being  packed  and  in  readiness  for  the  start,  and 
Miss  Travers  was  entertaining  two  or  three  young  officers  and  waiting 
for  her  sister  to  come  down  to  luncheon.  "  The  boys"  were  lachrymose 
over  her  prospective  departure, — at  least  they  affected  to  he, — and  wero 


THE  DESERTER.  139 

variously  sprawled  about  the  parlor  when  Mrs.  Clancy  descended,  and 
the  inflamed  condition  of  her  eyes  and  nose  became  apparent  to  all. 
There  was  much  chaff  and  fun,  therefore,  when  Mrs.  Rayner  finally 
appeared,  over  the  supposed  affliction  of  the  big  Irishwoman  at  the 
prospect  of  parting  with  her  patroness.  Miss  Travers  saw  with  sin- 
gular sensations  that  both  the  captain  and  her  usually  self-reliant  sister 
were  annoyed  and  embarrassed  by  the  topic  and  strove  to  change  it ; 
but  Foster's  propensity  for  mimicry  and  his  ability  to  imitate  Mrs. 
Clancy's  combined  brogue  and  sniffle  proved  too  much  for  their  efforts. 
Kate  was  in  a  royally  bad  temper  by  the  time  the  youngsters  left  the 
house,  and  when  Nellie  would  have  made  some  laughing  allusion  to 
the  fun  the  young  fellows  had  been  having  over  her  morning  caller,  she 
was  suddenly  and  tartly  checked  with — 

"  We've  had  too  much  of  that  already.  Just  understand  now  that 
you  have  no  time  to  waste,  if  your  packing  is  unfinished.  We  start 
to-morrow  afternoon." 

"  Why,  Kate !  I  had  no  idea  we  were  to  go  for  two  days  yet !  Of 
course  I  can  be  ready ;  but  why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know  it — at  least  it  was  not  decided — until  this  morn- 
ing, after  the  captain  came  back  from  the  office.  There  is  nothing  to 
prevent  our  going,  now  that  he  has  seen  the  colonel." 

"  There  was  not  before,  Kate ;  for  Mr.  Billings  told  me  yesterday 
morning,  and  I  told  you,  that  the  colonel  had  said  you  could  start  at 
once,  and  you  replied  that  the  captain  could  not  be  ready  for  several 
days, — three  at  least." 

"  Well,  now  he  is ;  and  that  ends  it.  Never  mind  what  changed 
his  mind." 

It  was  unsafe  to  trifle  with  Nellie  Travers,  as  Mrs.  Rayner  might 
have  known.  She  saw  that  something  had  occurred  to  make  the  cap- 
tain eager  to  start  at  once ;  and  then  there  was  that  immediate  sending 
for  Mrs.  Clancy,  the  long,  secret  talk  up  in  Kate's  room,  the  evident 
mental  disturbance  of  both  feminines  on  their  respective  reappearances, 
and  the  sudden  announcement  to  her.  While  there  could  be  no  time 
to  make  formal  parting  calls,  there  were  still  some  two  or  three  ladies 
in  the  garrison  whom  she  longed  to  see  before  saying  adieu  ;  and  then 
there  was  Mr.  Hayne,  whom  she  had  wronged  quite  as  bitterly  as  any- 
one else  had  wronged  him.  He  was  out  that  day  for  the  first  time,  and 
she  longed  to  see  him  and  longed  to  fulfil  the  neglected  promise.  Tfiat 
siie  must  do  at  the  very  least.  If  she  could  not  see  him,  she  must  write, 


140  THE  DESERTER. 

that  he  might  have  the  note  before  they  went  away.  All  these  thoughts 
were  rushing  through  her  brain  as  she  busied  herself  about  her  little 
room,  stowing  away  dresses  and  dropping  everything  from  time  to  time 
to  dart  into  her  sister's  room  in  answer  to  some  querulous  call.  Yet 
never  did  she  leave  without  a  quick  glance  from  her  window  up  and 
down  the  row.  For  whom  was  she  looking  ? 

It  was  just  about  dusk  when  she  heard  crying  down-stairs, — a  child, 
and  apparently  in  the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Rayner  was  with  the  baby,  and 
Miss  Travers  started  for  the  stairs,  calling  that  she  would  go  and  see 
what  it  meant.  She  was  down  in  the  hall  before  Mrs.  Rayner's  imper- 
ative and  repeated  calls  brought  her  to  a  full  stop. 

"  What  is  it?"  she  inquired. 

"  You  come  back  here  and  hold  baby.  I  know  perfectly  what  it  is. 
It  is  Kate  Clancy ;  and  she  wants  me.  You  can  do  nothing." 

Too  late,  madame !  The  intervening  doors  were  opened,  and  in 
inarched  cook,  leading  the  poor  little  Irish  girl,  who  was  sobbing 
piteously.  Mrs.  Rayner  came  down  the  stairs  with  all  speed,  bringing 
her  burly  son  and  heir  in  her  arms.  She  would  have  ordered  Nell  aloft, 
but  what  excuse  could  she  give  ?  and  Miss  Travers  was  already  bending 
over  the  child  and  striving  to  still  her  heart-breaking  cries. 

"  What  is  it  ?     Where's  your  father  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Rayner. 

"Oh,  ma'am,  I  don't  know.  I  came  here  to  tell  the  captain. 
Shure  he's  discharged,  ma'am,  an'  his  heart's  broke  entirely,  an' 
mother  says  we're  all  to  go  with  the  captain  to-morrow,  an'  he  swears 
he'll  kill  himself  before  he'll  go,  an'  I  can't  find  him,  ma'am.  It's 
almost  dark  now." 

"  Go  back  and  tell  your  mother  I  want  her  instantly.  We'll  find 
your  father.  Go  !"  she  repeated,  as  the  child  shrank  and  hesitated. 
"  Here, — the  front  way  !"  And  little  Kate  sped  away  into  the  shadows 
across  the  dim  level  of  the  parade. 

Then  the  sisters  faced  each  other.  There  was  a  fire  in  the  younger's 
eye  that  Mrs.  Rayner  would  have  escaped  if  she  could. 

"  Kate,  it  is  to  get  Clancy  away  from  the  possibility  of  revealing 
what  he  knows  that  you  have  planned  this  sudden  move,  and  I  knoio 
it,"  said  Miss  Travers.  "  You  need  not  answer." 

She  seized  a  wrap  from  the  hat-rack  and  stepped  to  the  door- way. 
Mrs.  Rayner  threw  herself  after  her. 

"  Nellie,  where  are  you  going  ?     What  will  you  do  ?" 

"  To  Mrs.  WaldroH's,  Kate ;  if  need  be,  to  Mr.  Hayne's." 


THE  DESERTER.  141 

A  bright  fire  was  burning  in  Major  Waldron's  cosey  parlor,  where 
lie  and  his  good  wife  were  seated  in  earnest  talk.  It  was  just  after 
sunset  when  Mr.  Hayne  dropped  in  to  pay  his  first  visit  after  the  few 
days  in  which  he  had  been  confined  to  his  quarters.  He  was  looking 
thin,  paler  than  usual,  and  far  more  restless  and  eager  in  manner  than 
of  old.  The  Waldrons  welcomed  him  with  more  than  usual  warmth, 
and  the  major  speedily  led  the  conversation  up  to  the  topic  which  was 
so  near  to  his  heart. 

"  You  and  I  must  see  the  doctor  and  have  a  triangular  council  over 
this  thing,  Hayne.  Three  heads  are  better  than  none ;  and  if,  as  he 
suspects,  old  Clancy  really  knows  anything  when  he's  drunk  that  he 
cannot  tell  when  he's  sober,  I  shall  depart  from  Mrs.  Waldron's  prin- 
ciples and  join  the  doctor  in  his  pet  scheme  of  getting  him  drunk  again. 
'In  vino  veritas'  you  know.  And  we  ought  to  be  about  it,  too,  for  it 
won't  be  long  before  his  discharge  comes,  and,  once  away,  we  should  be 
in  the  lurch." 

"  There  seems  so  little  hope  there,  major.  Even  the  colonel  has 
called  him  up  and  questioned  him." 

"  Ay,  very  true,  but  always  when  the  old  sergeant  was  sober.  It 
is  when  drunk  that  Clancy's  conscience  pricks  him  to  tell  what  he 
either  knows  or  suspects." 

A  light,  quick  footstep  was  heard  on  the  piazza,  the  hall  door 
opened,  and  without  knock  or  ring,  bursting  impetuously  in  upon  them, 
there  suddenly  appeared  Miss  Travers,  her  eyes  dilated  with  excite- 
ment. At  sight  of  the  group  she  stopped  short,  and  colored  to  the 
very  roots  of  her  shining  hair. 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Nellie !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Waldron,  as 
All  rose  to  greet  her.  An  embarrassed,  half-distraught  reply  was  her 
only  answer.  She  had  extended  both  hands  to  the  elder  lady;  but 
now,  startled,  almost  stunned,  at  finding  herself  in  the  presence  of  the 
very  man  she  most  wanted  to  see,  she  stood  with  downcast  eyes,  irreso- 
lute. He,  too,  had  not  stepped  forward, — had  not  offered  his  hand. 
She  raised  her  blue  eyes  for  one  quick  glance,  and  saw  his  pale,  pain- 
thinned  face,  read  anew  the  story  of  his  patience,  his  suffering,  hw 
heroism,  and  realized  how  she  too  had  wronged  him  and  that  her  very 
awkwardness  and  silence  might  tell  him  that  shameful  fact.  It  was 
more  than  she  could  stand.  • 

"  I  came — purposely.  I  hoped  to  find  you,  Mr.  Hayne.  You — 
you  remember  that  I  had  something  to  tell  you.  It  was  about  Clancy. 


142  THE  DESERTER. 

You  ought  to  see  him.  I'm  sure  you  ought,  for  he  must  know — he  or 
Mrs.  Clancy — something  about  your — your  trouble ;  and  I've  just  this 
minute  heard  that  they — that  he's  going  away  to-morrow ;  and  you 
must  find  him  to-night,  Mr.  Hayne :  indeed  you  must." 

Who  can  paint  her  as  she  stood  there,  blushing,  pleading,  eager, 
frightened,  yet  determined  ?  Who  can  picture  the  wild  emotion  in  his 
heart,  reflected  in  his  face  ?  He  stepped  quickly  to  her  side  with  the 
light  leaping  to  his  eyes,  his  hands  extended  as  though  to  grasp  hers ; 
but  it  was  Waldron  that  spoke  first : 

"Where  is  he  going? — how?" 

"  Oh,  with  us,  major.  We  go  to-morrow,  and  they  go  with  us. 
My  sister  has  some  reason — I  cannot  fathom  it.  She  wants  them 
away  from  here,  and  Clancy's  discharge  came  to-day.  He  must  see 
him  first,"  she  said,  indicating  Mr.  Hayne  by  the  nod  of  her  pretty 
head.  "  They  say  Clancy  has  run  off  and  got  away  from  his  wife. 
He  doesn't  want  to  be  discharged.  They  cannot  find  him  now ;  but 
perhaps  Mr.  Hayne  can. — Mr.  Hayne,  try  to.  You — you  must." 

"  Indeed  we  must,  Hayne,  and  quick  about  it,"  said  the  major. 
"  Now  is  our  chance,  I  verily  believe.  Let  us  get  the  doctor  first ; 
then  little  Kate  will  best  know  where  to  look  for  Clancy.  Come,  man, 
get  your  overcoat."  And  he  hastened  to  the  hall. 

Hayne  followed  as  though  in  a  dream,  reached  the  threshold, 
turned,  looked  back,  made  one  quick  step  toward  Miss  Travers  with 
outstretched  hand,  then  checked  himself  as  suddenly.  His  yearning 
eyes  seemed  fastened  on  her  burning  face,  his  lips  quivered  with  the 
intensity  of  his  emotion.  She  raised  her  eyes  and  gave  him  one  quick 
look,  half  entreaty,  half  command ;  he  seemed  ineffectually  struggling 
to  speak, — to  thank  her.  One  moment  of  irresolution,  then,  without 
a  word  of  any  kind,  he  sprang  to  the  door.  She  carried  his  parting 
glance  in  her  heart  of  hearts  all  night  long.  There  was  no  mistaking 
what  it  told. 

XVII. 

The  morning  report  of  the  following  day  showed  some  items  under 
the  head  of  "  Alterations"  that  involved  several  of  the  soldier  characters 
of  this  story.  Ex-Sergeant  Clancy  had  been  dropped  from  the  column 
of  present  "  on  daily  duty"  and  taken  up  on  that  of  absent  without  leave. 
Lieutenant  Hayne  was  also  reported  absent.  Dr.  Pease  and  Lieutenant 
Billings  drove  into  the  garrison  from  town  Just  before  the  cavalry 


THE  DESERTER.  143 

trumpets  were  sounding  first  call  for  guard-mounting,  and  the  adjutant 
sent  one  of  the  musicians  to  give  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Royce  and  ask 
him  to  mount  the  guard  for  him,  as  he  had  just  returned  and  had  im- 
portant business  with  the  colonel.  The  doctor  and  the  adjutant 
together  went  into  the  colonel's  quarters,  and  for  the  first  time  on 
record  the  commanding  officer  was  not  at  the  desk  in  his  office  when 
the  shoulder-straps  began  to  gather  for  the  matinte. 

Ten  minutes  after  the  usual  time  the  adjutant  darted  in  and  plunged 
with  his  characteristic  impetuosity  into  the  pile  of  passes  and  other  papers 
stacked  up  by  the  sergeant-major  at  his  table.  To  all  questions  as  to 
where  he  had  been  and  what  was  the  matter  with  the  colonel  he  replied, 
with  more  than  usual  asperity  of  manner, — the  asperity  engendered  of 
some  years  of  having  to  answer  the  host  of  questions  propounded  by 
vacant  minds  at  his  own  busiest  hour  of  the  day, — that  the  colonel 
would  tell  them  all  about  it  himself;  he  had  no  time  for  a  word.  The 
evident  manner  of  suppressed  excitement,  however,  was  something  few 
failed  to  note ;  and  every  man  in  the  room  felt  certain  that  when  the 
colonel  came  there  would  be  a  revelation.  It  was  with  something  bor- 
dering on  indignation,  therefore,  that  the  assemblage  heard  the  words 
that  intimated  to  them  that  all  might  retire.  The  colonel  had  come  in 
very  quietly,  received  the  report  of  the  officer  of  the  day,  relieved  him, 
and  dismissed  the  new  officer  of  the  day  with  the  brief  formula,  "  Usual 
orders,  sir,"  then  glanced  quickly  around  the  silent  circle  of  grave, 
bearded  or  boyish  faces.  His  eyes  rested  for  an  instant  with  something 
like  shock  and  trouble  upon  one  face,  pale,  haggard,  with  almost  blood- 
less lips,  and  yet  full  of  fierce  determination, — a  face  that  haunted  him 
long  afterwards,  it  was  so  full  of  agony,  of  suspense,  almost  of  pleading, 
— the  face  of  Captain  Rayner. 

Then,  dispensing  with  the  customary  talk,  he  quietly  spoke  the 
disappointing  words, — 

"  I  am  somewhat  late  this  morning,  gentlemen,  and  several  matters 
will  occupy  my  attention :  so  I  will  not  detain  you  further." 

The  crowd  seemed  to  find  their  feet  very  slowly.  There  was  visible 
disinclination  to  go.  Every  man  in  some  inexplicable  way  appeared 
to  know  that  there  was  a  new  mystery  hanging  over  the  garrison,  and 
that  the  colonel  held  the  key.  Every  man  felt  that  Billings  had 
given  him  the  right  to  expect  to  be  told  all  about  it  when  the  colonel 
came.  Some  looked  reproachfully  at  Billings,  as  though  to  remind  him 
of  their  expectations :  Stannard,  his  old  stand-by,  passed  him  with  a 


144  THE  DESERTER. 

gruff  "  Thought  you  said  the  colonel  had  something  to  tell  us,"  and 
went  out  with  an  air  of  injured  and  defrauded  dignity.  Rayner  arose, 
and  seemed  to  be  making  preparations  to  depart  with  the  others,  and 
some  of  the  number,  connecting  him  unerringly  with  the  prevailing 
sensation,  appeared  to  hold  back  and  wait  for  him  to  precede  them  and 
so  secure  to  themselves  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that,  if  it  was  a 
matter  connected  with  Rayner,  they  "had  him  along"  and  nothing 
could  take  place  without  their  hearing  it.  These  men  were  very  few, 
however;  but  Buxton  was  one  of  them.  Rayner's  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  colonel  and  searching  for  a  sign,  and  it  came, — a  little  motion 
of  the  hand  and  a  nod  of  the  head  that  signified  "  Stay."  Then,  as 
Buxton  and  one  or  two  of  his  stamp  still  dallied  irresolute,  the  colonel 
turned  somewhat  sharply  to  them :  "  Was  there  any  matter  on  which 
you  wished  to  see  me,  gentlemen  ?"  and,  as  there  was  none,  they  had  to 
go.  Then  Rayner  was  alone  with  the  colonel ;  for  Mr.  Billings  quickly 
arose,  and,  with  a  significant  glance  at  his  commander,  left  the  room 
and  closed  the  door. 

Mrs.  Rayner,  gazing  from  her  parlor  windows,  saw  that  all  the 
officers  had  come  out  except  one, — her  husband, — and  with  a  moan  of 
misery  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sank  upon  the  sofa. 
With  cheeks  as  white  as  her  sister's,  with  eyes  full  of  trouble  and  per- 
plexity, but  tearless,  Nellie  Travers  stepped  quickly  into  the  room  and 
put  a  trembling  white  hand  upon  the  other's  shoulder  : 

"  Kate,  it  is  no  time  for  so  bitter  an  estrangement  as  this.  I  have 
done  simply  what  our  soldier  father  would  have  done  had  he  been  here. 
I  am  fully  aware  of  what  it  must  cost  me.  I  knew  when  I  did  it  that 
you  would  never  again  welcome  me  to  your  home.  Once  East  again, 
you  and  I  can  go  our  ways ;  I  won't  burden  you  longer  ;  but  is  it  not 
better  that  you  should  tell  me  in  what  way  your  husband  or  you  can 
have  been  injured  by  what  I  have  done?" 

Mrs.  Rayner  impatiently  shook  away  the  hand. 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you,"  was  the  blunt  answer.  "  You  have 
carried  out  your  threat  and — ruined  us :  that's  all." 

"  What  can  you  mean  ?  Do  you  want  me  to  think  that  because 
Mr.  Hayne's  innocence  may  be  established  your  husband  was  the  guilty 
man  ?  Certainly  your  manner  leads  to  that  inference ;  though  his  does 
not,  by  any  means." 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk,  I  tell  you.  You've  had  your  way,— done 
your  work.  You'll  see  soon  enough  the  hideous  web  of  trouble  you've 


THE  DESERTER.  146 

entangled  about  my  husband.  Don't  you  dare  say — don't  you  dare 
think" — and  now  she  rose  with  sudden  fury — "  that  he  was  the — that 
he  lost  the  money  !  But  that's  what  all  others  will  think." 

"  If  that  were  true,  Kate,  there  would  be  this  difference  between 
his  trouble  and  Mr.  Hayne's  :  Captain  Rayner  would  have  wife,  wealth, 
and  friends  to  help  him  bear  the  cross  j  Mr.  Hayne  has  borne  it  five 
long  years  unaided.  I  pray  God  the  truth  has  been  brought  to  light." 

What  fierce  reply  Mrs.  Rayner  might  have  given,  who  knows? 
but  at  that  instant  a  quick  step  was  heard  on  the  piazza,  the  door  opened 
suddenly,  and  Captain  Rayner  entered  with  a  rush.  The  pallor  had 
gone ;  a  light  of  eager,  half-incredulous  joy  beamed  from  his  eyes,  he 
threw  his  cap  upon  the  floor,  and  his  wife  had  risen  and  thrown  her 
arms  about  his  neck. 

"  Have  they  found  him  ?"  was  her  breathless  question.  "  What  has 
happened  ?  You  look  so  different." 

"  Found  him  ?     Yes ;  and  he  has  told  everything  ?" 

"Told— what?" 

"  Told  that  he  and  Gower  were  the  men.     They  took  it  all." 

"Clancy! — and  Gower!  The  thieves,  do  you  mean?  Is  that — 
is  that  what  he  confessed  ?"  she  asked,  in  wild  wonderment,  in  almost 
stupefied  amaze,  releasing  him  from  her  arms  and  stepping  back,  her 
eyes  searching  his  face. 

"  Nothing  else  in  the  world,  Kate.  I  don't  understand  it  at  all. 
I'm  all  a-tremble  yet.  It  clears  Hayne  utterly.  It  at  least  explains 
how  I  was  mistaken.  But  what — what  could  she  have  meant  ?" 

Mrs.  Rayner  stood  like  one  in  a  dream,  her  eyes  staring,  her  lips 
quivering ;  and  Nellie,  with  throbbing  pulses  and  clasping  hands,  looked 
eagerly  from  husband  to  wife,  as  though  beseeching  some  explanation. 

"  What  did  she  mean  ?  What  did  she  mean  ?  I  say  again,"  asked 
Rayner,  pressing  his  hand  to  his  forehead  and  gazing  fixedly  at  his  wife. 

A  moment  longer  she  stood  there,  as  though  a  light — a  long-hidden 
truth — were  slowly  forcing  itself  upon  her  mind.  Then,  with  impulsive 
movement,  she  hurried  through  the  dining-room,  threw  open  the  kitchen 
door,  and  startled  the  domestics  at  their  late  breakfast. 

"  Ryan,"  she  called  to  the  soldier-servant  who  rose  hastily  from  the 
table,  "  go  and  tell  Mrs.  Clancy  I  want  her  instantly.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  Instantly  !"  And  Ryan  seized  his  forage-cap  and  vanished. 

It  was  perhaps  ten  minutes  before  he  returned.  When  he  did  so  it 
was  apparent  that  Mrs.  Rayner  had  been  crying  copiously,  and  that 
G  13 


146  THE  DESERTER. 

Miss  Travers,  too,  was  much  affected.  The  captain  was  pacing  the 
room  with  nervous  strides  in  mingled  relief  and  agitation.  All  looked 
up  expectant  as  the  soldier  re-entered.  He  had  the  air  of  a  man  who 
knew  he  bore  tidings  of  vivid  and  mysterious  interest,  but  he  curbed 
the  excitement  of  his  manner  until  it  shone  only  through  his  snapping 
eyes,  saluted,  and  reported  with  professional  gravity  : 

"  Mrs.  Clancy's  clean  gone,  sir." 

"Gone  where?" 

"  Nobody  knows,  sir.  She's  just  lit  out  with  her  trunk  and  best 
clothes  some  time  last  night." 

"  Gone  to  her  husband  in  town,  maybe  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  Clancy's  all  right :  he  was  caught  last  evening,  and 
hadn't  time  to  get  more'n  half  drunk  before  they  lodged  him.  Loo- 
tenant  Hayne  got  him,  sir.  They  had  him  afore  a  justice  of  the  peace 
early  this  morning " 

"  Yes,  I  know  all  that.  What  I  want  is  Mrs.  Clancy.  What  has 
become  of  her  ?" 

"  Faith,  I  don't  know,  sir,  but  the  women  in  Sudsville  they  all  say 
she's  run  away,  sir, — taken  her  money  and  gone.  She's  afraid  of 
Clancy's  peaching  on  her." 

"By  heavens!  the  thing  is  clearing  itself!"  exclaimed  Rayner  to 
his  gasping  and  wild-eyed  wife.  "  I  must  go  to  the  colonel  at  once 
with  his  news."  And  away  he  went. 

And  then  again,  as  the  orderly  retired,  and  the  sisters  were  left 
alone,  Nellie  Travers  with  trembling  iips  asked  the  question, — 

"  Have  I  done  so  much  harm,  after  all,  Kate  ?" 

"  Oh,  Nellie  !  Nellie  !  forgive  me,  for  I  have  been  nearly  mad  with 
misery !"  was  Mrs.  Rayner's  answer,  as  she  burst  into  a  fresh  paroxysm 
of  tears.  "  That — that  woman  has — has  told  me  fearful  lies." 

There  was  a  strange  scene  that  day  at  Warrener  when,  towards  noon, 
two  carriages  drove  out  from  town  and,  entering  the  east  gate,  rolled 
over  towards  the  guard-house.  The  soldiers  clustered  about  the  barrack 
porches  and  stared  at  the  occupants.  In  the  first — a  livery  hack  from 
town — were  two  sheriff's  officers,  while  cowering  on  the  back  seat,  his  hat 
pulled  down  over  his  eyes,  was  poor  old  Clancy,  to  whom  clung  faithful 
little  Kate.  In  the  rear  carriage — Major  Waldron's — were  Mr.  Hayne, 
the  major,  and  a  civilian  whom  some  of  the  men  had  no  difficulty  in 
recognizing  as  the  official  charged  with  the  administration  of  justice 
towards  offenders  against  the  peace.  Many  of  the  soldiers  strolled 


THE  DESERTER.  147 

slowly  up  the  road,  in  hopes  of  hearing  all  about  the  arrest,  and  what 
it  meant,  from  straggling  members  of  the  guard.  All  knew  it  meant 
something  more  than  a  mere  "break"  on  the  part  of  Clancy;  all  felt 
that  it  had  some  connection  with  the  long-continued  mystery  that  hung 
about  the  name  of  Lieutenant  Hayne.  Then,  too,  it  was  being  rioised 
abroad  that  Mrs.  Clancy  had  "  skipped"  and  between  two  suns  had  fled 
for  parts  unknown.  She  could  be  overhauled  by  telegraph  if  she  had 
left  on  either  of  the  night  freights  or  gone  down  towards  Denver  by 
the  early  morning  passenger-train ;  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  capture 
her  if  she  were  "  wanted/'  said  the  garrison ;  but  what  did  it  mean 
that  Clancy  was  pursued  by  officers  of  the  post  and  brought  back 
under  charge  of  officers  of  the  law  ?  He  had  had  trouble  enough,  poor 
fellow! 

The  officer  of  the  guard  looked  wonderingly  at  the  carriages  and 
their  occupants.  He  saluted  Major  Waldron  as  the  latter  stepped 
briskly  down. 

"  You  will  take  charge  of  Clancy,  Mr.  Graham,"  said  the  major. 
"  His  discharge  will  be  recalled  :  at  least  it  will  not  take  effect  to-day. 
You  will  be  interested  in  knowing  that  his  voluntary  confession  fully 
establishes  Mr.  Hayne's  innocence  of  the  charges  on  which  he  was 
tried." 

Mr.  Graham's  face  turned  all  manner  of  colors.  He  glanced  ai 
Hayne,  who,  still  seated  in  the  carriage,  was  as  calmly  indifferent  to 
him  as  ever  :  he  was  gazing  across  the  wide  parade  at  the  windows  in 
officers'  row.  Little  Kate's  sobs  as  the  soldiers  were  helping  her 
father  from  the  carriage  suddenly  recalled  his  wandering  thoughts.  He 
sprang  to  the  ground,  stepped  quickly  to  the  child,  and  put  his  arms 
about  her. 

"  Clancy,  tell  her  to  come  with  us.  Mrs.  Waldron  will  take  loving 
care  of  her,  and  she  shall  come  to  see  you  every  day.  The  guard-house 
is  no  place  for  her  to  follow  you.  Tell  her  so,  man,  and  she  will  go 
with  us. — Come,  Katie,  child !"  And  he  bent  tenderly  over  the  sob- 
bing little  waif. 

"Thank  ye,  sir.  I  know  ye'll  be  good  to  her.  Go  with  the 
lootenant,  Kate  darlin' ;  go.  Shure  I'll  be  happier  then." 

And,  trembling,  he  bent  and  kissed  her  wet  cheeks.  She  threw  her 
arms  around  his  neck  and  clung  to  him  in  an  agony  of  grief.  Gently 
they  strove  to  disengage  her  clasping  arms,  but  she  shrieked  and  strug- 
gled, and  poor  old  Clancy  broke  down.  There  were  sturdy  soldier* 


148  THE  DESERTER. 

standing  by  who  turned  their  heads  away  to  hide  the  unbidden  tears, 
and  with  a  quiver  in  his  kind  voice  the  major  interposed : 

"  Let  her  stay  awhile  :  it  will  be  better  for  both.  Don't  put  him  in 
the  prison-room,  Graham.  Keep  them  by  themselves  for  a  while.  We 
will  come  for  her  by  and  by."  And  then,  before  them  all,  he  held 
forth  his  hand  and  gave  Clancy's  a  cordial  grasp : 

"  Cheer  up,  man.  You've  taken  the  right  step  at  last.  You  are  a 
free  man  to-day,  even  if  you  are  a  prisoner  for  the  time  being.  Better 
this  a  thousand  times  than  what  you  were." 

Hayne,  too,  spoke  a  few  kind  words  in  a  low  tone,  and  gave  the  old 
soldier  his  hand  at  parting.  Then  the  guard  closed  the  door,  and  father 
and  daughter  were  left  alone.  As  the  groups  around  the  guard-house 
began  to  break  up  and  move  away,  and  the  officers,  re-entering  the 
carriages,  drove  over  to  head-quarters,  a  rollicking  Irishman  called  to 
the  sergeant  of  the  guard, — 

"  Does  he  know  the  ould  woman's  skipped,  sargent  ?  Shure  you'd 
better  tell  him.  'Twill  cheer  him,  like." 

But  when,  a  few  moments  after,  the  news  was  imparted  to  Clancy, 
the  effect  was  electric  and  startling.  With  one  bound  and  a  savage  cry 
he  sprang  to  the  door.  The  sergeant  threw  himself  upon  him  and 
strove  to  hold  him  back,  but  was  no  match  for  the  frenzied  man.  Deaf 
to  Kate's  entreaties  and  the  sergeant's  commands,  he  hurled  him  aside, 
leaped  through  the  door- way,  shot  like  a  deer  past  the  lolling  guards- 
men on  the  porch,  and,  turning  sharply,  went  at  the  top  of  his  speed 
down  the  hill  towards  Sudsville  before  man  could  lay  hand  on  him. 
The  sentry  on  Number  One  cocked  his  rifle  and  looked  inquiringly  at 
the  officer  of  the  guard,  who  came  running  out.  With  a  wild  shriek 
little  Kate  threw  herself  upon  the  sentry,  clasping  his  knees  and  im- 
ploring him  not  to  shoot.  The  lieutenant  and  the  sergeant  both  shouted, 
"  Never  mind  !  Don't  fire  !"  and  with  others  of  the  guard  rushed  in 
pursuit.  But,  old  and  feeble  as  he  was,  poor  Clancy  kept  the  lead, 
never  swerving,  never  flagging,  until  he  reached  the  door-way  of  his 
abandoned  cot ;  this  he  burst  in,  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  by  th<» 
bedside,  and  dragged  to  light  a  little  wooden  chest  that  stood  by  an 
open  trap  in  the  floor.  One  look  sufficed  :  the  mere  fact  that  the  trap 
was  open  and  the  box  exposed  was  enough.  With  a  wild  cry  of  rage, 
despair,  and  baffled  hatred,  he  clinched  his  hands  above  his  head,  rose  to 
his  full  height,  and  with  a  curse  upon  his  white  lips,  with  glaring  eyes 
and  gasping  breath,  turned  upon  his  pursuers  as  they  came  running 


THE  DESERTER.  149 

in,  and  hurled  his  fists  at  the  foremost.  "  Let  me  follow  her,  I  say  ! 
She's  gone  with  it  all, — his  money  !  Let  me  go  !"  he  shrieked  ;  and 
then  his  eyes  turned  stony,  a  gasp,  a  clutch  at  his  throat,  and,  plunging 
headlong,  he  fell  upon  his  face  at  their  feet. 

Poor  little  Kate !     The  old  man  was,  indeed,  free  at  last. 

XVIII. 

There  had  been  a  scene  of  somewhat  dramatic  nature  at  the  colonel's 
office  but  a  short  time  before,  and  one  that  had  fewer  witnesses.  Agi- 
tated, nervous,  and  eventually  astonished  as  Captain  Rayner  had  been 
when  the  colonel  had  revealed  to  him  the  nature  of  Clancy's  confession, 
he  was  far  more  excited  and  tremulous  when  he  returned  a  second  time. 
The  commanding  officer  had  been  sitting  deep  in  thought.  It  was  but 
natural  that  a  man  should  show  great  emotion  on  learning  that  the  evi- 
dence he  had  given,  which  had  condemned  a  brother  officer  to  years  of 
solitary  punishment,  was  now  disproved.  It  was  to  be  expected  that 
Rayner  should  be  tremulous  and  excited.  He  had  been  looking  worse 
and  worse  for  a  long  time  past ;  and  now  that  it  was  established  that 
he  must  have  been  mistaken  in  what  he  thought  he  saw  and  heard  at 
Battle  Butte,  it  was  to  be  expected  that  he  should  show  the  utmost  con- 
sternation and  an  immediate  desire  to  make  amends.  He  had  shown 
great  emotion ;  he  was  white  and  rigid  as  the  colonel  told  him  Clancy 
had  made  a  full  confession ;  but  the  expression  on  his  face  when  in- 
formed that  the  man  had  admitted  that  he  and  Sergeant  Gower  were 
the  only  ones  guilty  of  the  crime — that  Clancy  and  Gower  divided  the 
guilt  as  they  had  the  money — was  a  puzzle  to  the  colonel.  Captain 
Rayner  seemed  daft  :  it  was  a  look  of  wild  relief,  half  unbelief,  half 
delight,  that  shot  across  his  haggard  features.  It  was  evident  that  he 
had  not  heard  at  all  what  he  expected.  This  was  what  puzzled  the 
colonel.  He  had  been  pondering  over  it  ever  since  the  captain's  hurried 
departure  "  to  tell  his  wife." 

"  We — we  had  expected — made  all  preparations  to  take  this  after- 
noon's train  for  the  East,"  he  stammered.  "  We  are  all  torn  up,  all 
ready  to  start,  and  the  ladies  ought  to  go  ;  but  I  cannot  feel  like  going 
in  the  face  of  this." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  go,  captain.  I  am  told 
Mrs.  Rayner  should  leave  at  once.  If  need  be,  you  can  return  from 
Chicago.  Everything  will  be  attended  to  properly.  Of  course  you 


150  THE  DESERTER. 

will  know  what  to  do  towards  Mr.  Hayne.  Indeed,  I  think  it  might 
be  best  for  you  to  go." 

But  Rayner  seemed  hardly  listening ;  and  the  colonel  was  not  a 
man  to  throw  his  words  away. 

"  You  might  see  Mrs.  Rayner  at  once,  and  return  by  and  by,"  he 
said ;  and  Rayner  gladly  escaped,  and  went  home  with  the  wonderful 
news  he  had  to  tell  his  wife. 

And  now  a  second  time  he  was  back,  and  was  urging  upon  the 
commanding  officer  the  necessity  of  telegraphing  and  capturing  Mrs. 
Clancy.  In  plain  words  he  told  the  colonel  he  believed  that  she  had 
escaped  with  the  greater  part  of  the  money.  The  colonel  smiled : 

"That  was  attended  to  early  this  morning,  captain.  Hayne  and 
the  major  asked  that  she  be  secured,  and  the  moment  we  found  her 
fled  it  confirmed  their  suspicions,  and  Billings  sent  despatches  in  every 
direction.  She  can't  get  away  !  She  was  his  temptress,  and  I  mean  to 
make  her  share  all  the  punishment." 

"  Colonel,"  exclaimed  Rayner,  while  beads  of  sweat  stood  out  on 
his  forehead,  "  she  is  worse, — a  thousand  times  worse !  The  woman 
is  a  fiend.  She  is  the  devil  in  petticoats — and  ingenuity.  My  God  ! 
sir,  I  have  been  in  torment  for  weeks  past, — my  poor  wife  and  I.  I 
have  been  criminally,  cowardly  weak  ;  but  I  did  not  know  what  to  do, 
— where  to  turn, — how  to  take  it, — how  to  meet  it.  Let  me  tell  you." 
And  now  great  tears  were  standing  in  his  eyes  and  beginning  to  trickle 
down  his  cheeks.  He  dashed  them  away.  His  lips  were  quivering, 
and  he  strode  nervously  up  and  down  the  matted  floor.  "  When  you 
refused  to  let  Clancy  re-enlist  in  the  — th,  two  years  after  Battle  Butte, 
he  came  to  me  and  told  me  a  story.  He,  too,  had  declared,  as  I  did, 
that  he  had  seen  the  money-packages  in  Hayne' s  hands ;  and  he  said 
the  real  reason  he  was  kicked  out  of  the  — th  was  because  the  officers 
and  men  took  sides  with  Hayne  and  thought  he  had  sworn  his  reputa- 
tion away.  He  begged  me  not  to  '  go  back  on  him'  as  his  own  regi- 
ment had,  and  I  thought  he  was  being  persecuted  because  he  told  the 
truth.  God  knows  I  fully  believed  Hayne  guilty  for  more  than  three 
years, — it  is  only  within  the  last  year  or  so  I  began  to  have  doubts ; 
and  so  I  took  Clancy  into  B  Company  and  soon  made  Mrs.  Clancy  a 
laundress.  But  she  made  trouble  for  us  all,  and  there  was  something 
uncanny  about  them.  She  kept  throwing  out  mysterious  hints  I  could 
not  understand  when  rumors  of  them  reached  me ;  and  at  last  came 
<he  fire  that  burned  them  out,  and  then  the  stories  of  what  Clancy 


THE  DESERTER.  151 

had  said  in  his  delirium  •  and  then  she  came  to  my  wife  and  told  her  a 
yarn  that — she  swore  to  its  truth,  and  nearly  drove  Mrs.  Rayner  wild 
with  anxiety.  She  swore  that  when  Clancy  got  to  drinking  he 
imagined  he  had  seen  me  take  that  money  from  Captain  Hull's  saddle- 
bags and  replace  the  sealed  package  :  she  said  he  was  ready  to  swear 
that  he  and  Gower — the  deserter — and  two  of  our  men,  honorably 
discharged  now  and  living  on  ranches  down  in  Nebraska,  could  all 
swear — would  all  swear — to  the  same  thing, — that  I  was  the  thief. 
f  Sure  you  know  it  couldn't  be  so,  ma'am ;  and  yet  he  wants  to  go 
and  tell  Mr.  Hayne,'  she  would  say :  l  there's  the  four  of  'em  would 
swear  to  it,  though  Grower's  evidence  would  be  no  good ;  but  the  two 
men  could  hurt  the  captain.'  Her  ingenuity  was  devilish ;  for  one  of 
the  men  I  had  severely  punished  once  in  the  Black  Hills,  and  both 
hated  me  and  had  sworn  they  would  get  even  with  me  yet.  God  help 
me,  colonel !  seeing  every  day  the  growing  conviction  that  Hayne  was 
innocent,  that  somebody  else  must  be  guilty,  I  thought,  what  if  this 
man  should,  in  drunken  gratitude  to  Hayne  for  saving  his  life,  go  to 
him  and  tell  him  this  story,  then  back  it  up  before  the  officials  and 
call  in  these  two  others  ?  I  was  weak,  but  it  appalled  me.  I  deter- 
mined to  get  him  out  of  the  way  of  such  a  possibility.  I  got  his  dis- 
charge, and  meantime  strove  to  prevent  his  drinking  or  going  near 
Hayne.  She  knew  the  real  story  he  would  tell.  This  was  her  devilish 
plan  to  keep  me  on  watch  against  him.  I  never  dreamed  the  real 
truth.  She  swore  to  me  that  three  hundred  dollars  was  all  the  money 
they  had.  I  believed  that  when  he  confessed  it  would  be  what  she 
declared.  I  never  dreamed  that  Clancy  and  his  confederate  were  the 
thieves :  I  never  believed  the  money  was  taken  until  after  Hayiie 
received  it.  I  saw  how  Hayne's  guilt  was  believed  in  even  in  the  face 
of  contradictory  evidence  before  the  court.  What  would  be  the  ten- 
dency if  three  men  together  were  to  swear  against  me,  now  that  every- 
body thought  him  wronged  ?  I  know  very  well  what  you  will  think 
of  my  cowardice.  I  know  you  and  your  officers  will  say  I  should  have 
given  him  every  chance, — should  have  courted  investigation ;  and  I 
meant  to  do  so,  but  first  I  wanted  to  hear  from  those  discharged  men  in 
Nebraska.  The  whole  scheme  would  have  been  exploded  two  months 
ago  had  I  not  been  a  coward ;  but  night  after  night  something  kept 
whispering  to  me,  '  You  have  wrecked  and  ruined  a  friendless  young 
soldier's  life.  You  shall  be  brought  as  low.'  " 

The  colonel  was,  as  he  afterwards  remarked,  hardly  equal  to  the 


152  TEE  DESEETEE. 

occasion.  He  had  as  much  contempt  for  moral  weakness  in  a  soldier 
as  he  had  for  physical  cowardice  j  but  Rayner's  almost  abject  recital  of 
his  months  of  misery  really  left  him  nothing  to  say.  Had  the  captain 
nought  to  defend  or  justify  any  detail  of  his  conduct,  he  would  have 
pounced  on  him  like  a  panther.  Twice  the  adjutant,  sitting  an  absorbed 
and  silent  listener,  thought  the  chief  on  the  verge  of  an  outbreak ;  but 
it  never  came.  For  some  minutes  after  Rayner  ceased  the  colonel  sat 
steadily  regarding  him.  At  last  he  spoke : 

"  You  have  been  so  frank  in  your  statement,  captain,  that  I  feel  you 
fully  appreciate  how  such  deplorable  weakness  must  be  regarded  in  an 
officer.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  speak  of  that.  The  full  partic- 
ulars of  Clancy's  confession  are  not  yet  with  me.  Major  Waldron  has 
it  all  in  writing,  and  Mr.  Billings  has  merely  told  me  the  general 
features.  Of  course  you  shall  have  a  copy  of  it  in  good  time.  As  you 
go  East  to-day  and  have  your  wife  and  household  to  think  for,  it  may 
be  as  well  that  you  do  not  attempt  to  see  Mr.  Hayne  before  starting. 
And  this  matter  will  not  be  discussed." 

And  so  it  happened  that  when  the  Rayners  drove  to  the  station  that 
bright  afternoon,  and  a  throng  of  ladies  and  officers  gathered  to  see 
them  off,  some  of  the  youngsters  going  with  them  into  town  to  await 
the  coming  of  the  train,  Nellie  Travers  had  been  surrounded  by  chat- 
tering friends  of  both  sexes,  constantly  occupied,  and  yet  constantly 
looking  for  the  face  of  one  who  came  not.  For  an  hour  before  their 
departure  every  tongue  in  garrison  that  wagged  at  all — and  few  there 
were  that  wagged  not — was  discoursing  on  the  exciting  events  of  the 
morning, — Hayne's  emancipation  from  the  last  vestige  of  suspicion, 
Clancy's  capture,  confession,  and  tragic  death,  Mrs.  Clancy's  flight 
and  probable  future.  At  Rayner's,  people  spoke  of  these  things  very 
guardedly,  because  every  one  saw  that  the  captain  was  moved  to  the 
depths  of  his  nature.  He  was  solemnity  itself,  and  Mrs.  Rayner 
watched  him  with  deep  anxiety,  fearful  that  he  might  be  exposed  to 
Borne  thoughtless  or  malicious  questioning.  Her  surveillance  was  need- 
less, however :  even  Ross  made  no  allusion  to  the  events  of  the  morn- 
ing, though  he  communicated  to  his  fellows  in  the  subsequent  confi- 
dences of  the  club-room  that  Midas  looked  as  though  he'd  been  pulled 
through  a  series  of  knot-holes.  "  Looks  more's  though  he  were  going 
to  his  own  funeral  than  on  leave,"  he  added. 

As  for  Hayne,  he  had  been  closeted  with  the  colonel  and  Major 
Waldron  for  some  time  after  his  return, — a  conference  that  was  broken 


TEE  DESERTER.  153 

in  upon  by  the  startling  news  of  Clancy's  death.  Then  he  had  joined 
his  friend  the  doctor  at  the  hospital,  and  was  still  there,  striving  to 
comfort  little  Kate,  who  could  not  be  induced  to  leave  her  father's 
rapidly  stiffening  form,  when  Mrs.  Waldron  re-entered  the  room. 
Drawing  the  child  to  her  side  and  folding  her  motherly  arms  about  her, 
she  looked  up  in  Hayne's  pale  face  : 

"  They  are  going  in  five  minutes.     Don't  you  mean  to  see  her  ?" 
s       "  Not  there, — not  under  his  roof  or  in  that  crowd.     I  will  go  to 
the  station." 

"  I  must  run  over  and  say  good-by  in  a  moment, — when  the  car- 
riage goes  around.  Shall — shall  I  say  you  will  come  ?" 

There  was  a  light  in  his  blue  eyes  she  was  just  beginning  to  notice 
now  as  she  studied  his  face.  A  smile  flickered  one  instant  about  the 
corners  of  his  mouth,  and  then  he  held  out  his  hand : 

"  She  knows  by  this  time,  Mrs.  Waldron." 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Rayner  was  standing  on  the  platform  at  the 
station,  Ross  and  others  of  her  satellites  hanging  about  her ;  Captain 
Rayner  was  talking  in  subdued  tones  with  one  or  two  of  the  senior 
officers ;  Miss  Travers,  looking  feverishly  pretty,  was  chatting  busily 
with  Royce  and  Foster,  though  a  close  observer  could  have  noted  that 
her  dark  eyes  often  sought  the  westward  prairie  over  which  wound  the 
road  to  the  distant  post.  It  was  nearly  train-time,  and  three  or  four 
horsemen  could  be  seen  at  various  distances,  while,  far  out  towards  the 
fort,  long  skirmish-lines  and  fluttering  guidons  were  sweeping  over  the 
slopes  in  mimic  war-array. 

"  I  have  missed  all  this,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  scene ;  "  and  I 
do  love  it  so  that  it  seems  hard  to  go  just  as  all  the  real  soldier  life  is 
beginning." 

"Goodness  knows  you've  had  offers  enough  to  keep  you  here," 
said  Foster,  with  not  the  blithest  laugh  in  the  world.  "  Any  girl  who 
will  go  East  and  marry  a  '  cit'  and  leave  six  or  seven  penniless  subs 
sighing  behind  her,  I  have  my  opinion  of:  she's  eminently  level- 
headed," he  added,  with  rueful  and  unexpected  candor. 

"  I  have  hopes  of  Miss  Travers  yet,"  boomed  Royce,  in  his  pon 
derous  basso, — "  not  personal  hopes,  Foster ;  you  needn't  feel  for  your 
pistol, — but  I  believe  that  her  heart  is  with  the  army,  like  the  soldier' 
daughter  she  is."     And,  audacious  as  was  the  speech  and  deserving  of 
instant  rebuke,  Mr.  Royce  was  startled  to  see  her  reddening  vividly 


154  THE  DESERTER. 

He  would  have  plunged  into  hasty  apology,  but  Foster  plucked  his 
sleeve ; 

"  Look  who's  coming,  you  galoot !  She  hasn't  heard  a  word  either 
of  us  has  said." 

And  though  Nellie  Travers,  noting  the  sudden  silence,  burst  into 
an  immediate  and  utterly  irrelevant  lament  over  the  loss  of  the  Maltese 
kitten, — which  had  not  been  seen  all  that  day  and  was  not  to  be  found 
when  they  came  away, — it  was  useless.  The  eifort  was  gallant,  but  the 
flame  in  her  cheeks  betrayed  her  as,  throwing  his  reins  to  the  orderly 
who  followed  him,  Mr.  Hayne  dismounted  at  the  platform  and  came 
directly  towards  her.  To  Mrs.  Rayner's  unspeakable  dismay,  he  walked 
up  to  the  trio,  bowed  low  over  the  little  gloved  hand  that  was  extended 
in  answer  to  the  proffer  of  his  own,  and  next  she  saw  that  Royce  and 
Foster  had,  as  though  by  tacit  consent,  fallen  back,  and,  coram  publieo, 
Mr.  Hayne  was  sole  claimant  of  the  regards  of  her  baby  sister.  There 
was  but  one  comfort  in  the  situation  :  the  train  was  in  sight.  Forget- 
ful, reckless  for  the  moment,  of  what  was  going  on  around  her,  she 
stood  gazing  at  the  pair.  No  woman  could  fail  to  read  the  story ;  no 
woman  could  see  his  face,  his  eyes,  his  whole  attitude  and  expression, 
and  not  read  therein  that  old,  old  story  that  grows  sweeter  with  every 
century  of  its  life.  That  he  should  be  inspired  with  sudden,  vehement 
love  for  her  exquisite  Nell  was  something  she  could  readily  understand ; 
but  what — what  meant  her  downcast  eyes,  the  flutter  of  color  on  her 
soft  and  rounded  cheek,  the  shy  uplifting  of  the  fringed  lids  from  time 
to  time  as  though  in  response  to  eager  question  or  appeal  ?  Heavens  ! 
would  that  train  never  come  ?  The  whistle  was  sounding  in  the  distance, 
but  it  would  take  ages  to  drag  those  heavy  Pullmans  up  the  grade  from 
the  bridge  where  they  had  yet  to  stop.  She  could  almost  have  darted 
forward,  seized  her  sister  by  the  wrist,  and  whispered  again  the  baleful 
reminder  that  of  late  had  had  no  mention  between  them,—"  Thou  art 
another's  ;"  but  in  her  distress  her  weak  blue  eyes  sought  her  husband's 
face.  He  saw  it  all,  and  shook  his  head.  Then  there  was  nothing  to 
be  done. 

As  the  train  came  rumbling  finally  into  the  station,  she  saw  him 
once  more  clasp  her  sister's  hand ;  then,  with  one  long  look  into  the 
sweet  face  that  was  hidden  from  her  jealous  eyes,  he  raised  his  forage- 
cap and  stepped  quickly  back  to  where  his  horso  was  held.  Her 
husband  hastened  to  her  side : 


THE  DESERTER.  155 

u  Kate,  I  must  speak  to  him.  I  don't  care  how  he  may  take  it ;  I 
cannot  go  without  it." 

Thej  all  watched  the  tall  captain  as  he  strode  across  the  platform. 
Every  man  in  uniform  seemed  to  know  instinctively  that  Rayner  at  last 
was  seeking  to  make  open  reparation  for  the  bitter  wrong  he  had  done. 
One  or  two  strove  to  begin  a  general  chat  and  affect  an  interest  in  some- 
thing else,  for  Mrs.  Rayner's  benefit,  but  she,  with  trembling  lips,  stood 
gazing  after  her  husband  and  seemed  to  beg  for  silence.  Then  all 
abandoned  other  occupation,  and  every  man  stood  still  and  watched 
them.  Hayne  had  quickly  swung  into  saddle,  and  had  turned  for  one 
more  look,  when  he  saw  his  captain  with  ashen  face  striding  towards 
him,  and  heard  him  call  his  name. 

"  By  Jove !"  muttered  Ross,  "  what  command  that  fellow  has  over 
himself!"  for,  scrupulously  observant  of  military  etiquette,  Mr.  Hayne 
on  being  addressed  by  his  superior  officer  had  instantly  dismounted,  and 
now  stood  silently  facing  him.  Even  at  the  distance,  there  were  some 
who  thought  they  could  see  his  features  twitching ;  but  his  blue  eyes 
were  calm  and  steady, — far  clearer  than  they  had  been  but  a  moment 
agone  when  gazing  good-by  into  the  sweet  face  they  worshipped.  None 
could  hear  what  passed  between  them.  The  talk  was  very  brief;  but 
Ross  almost  gasped  with  amaze,  other  officers  looked  at  one  another  in 
utter  astonishment,  and  Mrs.  Rayner  fairly  sobbed  with  excitement  and 
emotion,  when  Mr.  Hayne  was  seen  to  hold  forth  his  hand,  and  Rayner, 
grasping  it  eagerly  in  both  his  own,  shook  it  once,  then  strode  hastily 
away  towards  the  rear  of  the  train.  His  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  he 
could  not  repress  and  could  not  bear  to  show. 

That  evening,  as  the  train  wound  steadily  eastward  into  the  shadows 
of  the  night,  and  they  looked  out  in  farewell  upon  the  slopes  they  had 
last  seen  when  a  wintry  gale  swept  fiercely  over  the  frozen  surface  and 
the  shallow  ravines  were  streaked  with  snow,  Kate  Rayner,  after  a  long 
talk  with  her  husband,  and  abandoning  her  boy  to  the  sole  guardian- 
ship of  his  nurse,  settled  herself  by  Nellie's  side,  and  Nellie  knew  that 
she  either  sought  confidences  or  had  them  to  impart.  Something  of 
the  old,  quizzical  look  was  playing  about  the  corner  of  her  pretty  mouth 
as  her  elder  sister,  with  feminine  indirectness,  began  her  verbal  skir- 
mishing with  the  subject.  It  was  some  time  before  the  question  was 
reached  which  led  to  her  real  objective : 

"  Did  he — did  Mr.  Hayne  tell  you  much  about  Clancy  ?" 

"  Not  much.     There  was  no  time." 


156  TEE  DESERTER. 

"  You  had  fully  ten  minutes,  I'm  sure.     It  seemed  even  longer." 

"  Four  by  the  clock,  Kate." 

"  Well,  four,  then.  He  must  have  had  something  of  greater  in- 
terest." 

No  answer.     Cheeks  reddening,  though. 

"Didn't  he?"— persistently. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  he  told  me  of  Clancy,  Kate.  Mrs.  Clancy 
had  utterly  deceived  you  as  to  what  he  had  to  tell,  had  she  not  ?" 

"  Utterly."     And  now  it  was  Mrs.  Rayner's  turn  to  color  painfully. 

"  Mr.  Hayne  tells  me  that  Clancy's  confession  really  explained  how 
Captain  Rayner  was  mistaken.  It  was  not  so  much  the  captain's  fault, 
after  all." 

"  So  Mr.  Hayne  told  him.  You  knew  they — you  saw  Mr.  Hayne 
offer  him  his  hand,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  I  did  not  see :  I  knew  he  would."  More  vivid  color,  and  much 
hesitation  now. 

"  Knew  he  would  !  Why,  Nellie,  what  do  you  mean  ?  He  didn't 
tell  you  that  he  was  to  see  Captain  Rayner.  He  couldn't  have  known." 

"  But  I  knew,  Kate ;  and  I  told  him  how  the  captain  had  suffered." 

"  But  how  could  you  know  that  he  would  shake  hands  with  him  ?" 

"  He  promised  me." 

The  silence  was  unbroken  for  a  moment.  Nellie  Travers  could 
hear  the  beating  of  her  own  heart  as  she  nestled  closer  to  her  sister  and 
stole  a  hand  into  hers.  Mrs.  Rayner  was  trying  hard  to  be  dutiful, 
stern,  unbending,  to  keep  her  faith  with  the  distant  lover  in  the  East, 
whether  Nell  was  true  or  no ;  but  she  had  been  so  humbled,  so  changed, 
so  shaken,  by  the  events  of  the  past  few  weeks,  that  she  felt  all  her  old 
spirit  of  guardianship  ebbing  away.  "  Must  I  give  you  up,  Nell  ?  and 
must  he,  too?— Mr.  Van  Antwerp?" 

"  He  has  not  answered  my  last  letter,  Kate.  It  is  nearly  a  week 
since  I  have  heard  from  him." 

"What  did  you  write,  Nellie?" 

"  What  I  had  done  twice  before, — that  he  ought  to  release  me." 

"  And — is  Clancy's  the  only  confession  you  have  heard  to-day  ?" 

"  The  only  one."  A  pause :  then,  "  I  know  what  you  mean, 
Kate ;  but  he  is  not  the  man  to — to  offer  his  love  to  a  girl  he  knows  is 
pledged  to  another." 

"  But  if  you  were  free,  Nellie  ?    Tell  me." 

"  I  have  no  right  to  say,  Kate ;  but" — and  two  big  tears  were  well- 


THE  DESERTER.  157 

ing  up  into  her  brave  eyes,  as  she  clasped  her  hands  and  stretched  them 
yearningly  before  her — "shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think  a  girl  would 
say  if  she  were  free  and  had  won  his  love  ?" 

"What,  Nellie?" 

"  She  would  say,  '  Ay.'  No  woman  with  a  heart  could  leave  a  man 
who  has  borne  so  much  and  come  through  it  all  so  bravely." 

Poor  Mrs.  Rayner  !  Humbled  and  chastened  as  she  was,  what  refuge 
had  she  but  tears,  and  then — prayer  ? 

XIX. 

Within  the  week  succeeding  the  departure  of  the  Rayners  and  Miss 
Travers,  Lieutenant  Hayne's  brother-in-law  and  his  remarkably  at- 
tractive sister  were  with  him  in  garrison  and  helping  him  fit  up  the 
new  quarters  which  the  colonel  had  rather  insisted  on  his  moving  into 
and  occupying,  even  though  two  unmarried  subalterns  had  to  move 
out  and  make  way  for  him.  This  they  seemed  rather  delighted  to  do. 
There  was  a  prevailing  sentiment  at  Warrener  that  nothing  was  too 
good  for  Hayne  nowadays ;  and  he  took  all  this  adulation  so  quietly 
and  modestly  that  there  was  difficulty  in  telling  just  how  it  affected 
him.  Towards  those  who  had  known  him  well  in  the  days  of  his  early 
service  he  still  maintained  a  dignity  and  reserve  of  manner  that  kept 
them  at  some  distance.  To  others,  especially  to  the  youngsters  in  the 
— th  as  well  as  to  those  in  the  Riflers,  he  unbent  entirely,  and  was 
frank,  unaffected,  and  warm-hearted.  He  seemed  to  bask  in  the  sun- 
shine of  the  respect  and  consideration  accorded  him  on  every  side. 
Yet  no  one  could  say  he  seemed  happy.  Courteous,  grave  far  beyond 
his  years,  silent  and  thoughtful,  he  impressed  them  all  as  a  man  who 
had  suffered  too  much  ever  again  to  be  light-hearted.  Then  it  was 
more  than  believed  he  had  fallen  deeply  in  love  with  Nellie  Travers ; 
and  that  explained  the  rarity  and  sadness  of  his  smile.  To  the  women 
he  was  a  centre  of  intense  and  romantic  interest.  Mrs.  Waldron  was 
an  object  of  jealousy  because  of  the  priority  of  her  claims  to  his  re- 
gard. Mrs.  Hurley — the  sweet  sister  who  so  strongly  resembled  him 
— was  the  recipient  of  universal  attention  from  both  sexes.  Hayne 
and  the  Hurleys,  indeed,  would  have  been  invited  to  several  places  an 
evening  could  they  have  accepted.  And  yet,  with  it  all,  Mr.  Hayne 
seemed  at  times  greatly  preoccupied.  He  had  a  great  deal  to  think  of. 

To  begin  with,  the  widow  Clancy  had  been  captured  in  one  of  the 


J58  THE  DESERTER. 

mining  towns,  where  she  had  sought  refuge,  and  brought  back  by  the 
civil  authorities,  nearly  three  thousand  dollars  in  greenbacks  having 
been  found  in  her  possession.  She  had  fought  like  a  fury  and  proved 
too  much  for  the  sheriff's  posse  when  first  arrested,  and  not  until  three 
days  after  her  incarceration  was  the  entire  amount  brought  to  light. 
There  was  no  question  what  ought  to  be  done  with  it.  Clancy's  con- 
fession established  the  fact  that  almost  the  entire  amount  was  stolen 
from  Captain  Hull  nearly  six  years  before,  the  night  previous  to  his 
tragic  death  at  Battle  Butte.  Mrs.  Clancy  at  first  had  furiously  de- 
clared it  all  a  lie ;  but  Waldron's  and  Billings's  precaution  in  having 
Clancy's  entire  story  taken  down  by  a  notary  public  and  sworn  to 
before  him  eventually  broke  her  down.  She  made  her  miserable, 
whining  admissions  to  the  sheriff's  officers  in  town, — the  colonel  would 
not  have  her  on  the  post  even  as  a  prisoner, — and  there  she  was  still 
held,  awaiting  further  disclosures,  while  little  Kate  was  lovingly  cared 
for  at  Mrs.  Waldron's.  Poor  old  Clancy  was  buried  and  on  the  way 
to  be  forgotten. 

What  proved  the  hardest  problem  for  the  garrison  to  solve  was  the 
fact  that,  while  Mr.  Hayne  kept  several  of  his  old  associates  at  a  dis- 
tance, he  had  openly  offered  his  hand  to  Rayner.  This  was  something 
the  Riflers  could  not  account  for.  The  intensity  of  his  feeling  at  the  time 
of  the  court-martial  none  could  forget :  the  vehemence  of  his  denuncia- 
tion of  the  captain  was  still  fresh  in  the  memory  of  those  who  heard  it. 
Then  there  were  all  those  years  in  which  Rayner  had  continued  to  crowd 
him  to  the  wall ;  and  finally  there  was  the  almost  tragic  episode  of 
Buxton's  midnight  visitation,  in  which  Rayner,  willingly  or  not,  had 
been  in  attendance.  Was  it  not  odd  that  in  the  face  of  all  these  con- 
siderations the  first  man  to  whom  Mr.  Hayne  should  have  offered  his 
hand  was  Captain  Rayner  ?  Odd  indeed  !  But  then  only  one  or  two 
were  made  acquainted  with  the  full  particulars  of  Clancy's  con- 
fession, and  none  had  heard  Nellie  Travers's  request.  Touched  as  he 
was  by  the  sight  of  Rayner's  haggard  and  trouble- worn  face,  relieved 
as  he  was  by  Clancy's  revelation  of  the  web  that  had  been  woven  to 
cover  the  tracks  of  the  thieves  and  ensnare  the  feet  of  the  pursuers, 
Hayne  could  not  have  found  it  possible  to  offer  his  hand  ;  but  when 
he  bent  over  the  tiny  glove  and  looked  into  her  soft  and  brimming 
eyes  at  the  moment  of  their  parting  he  could  not  say  no  to  the  one 
thing  she  asked  of  him  :  it  was  that  if  Rayner  came  to  say,  u  Forgi'  e 
me,"  beforo  they  left,  he  would  not  repel  him. 


THE  DESERTER.  159 

There  was  one  man  in  garrison  whom  Hayne  cut  entirely,  and  for 
whom  no  one  felt  the  faintest  sympathy ;  and  that,  of  course,  was 
Buxton.  With  Rayner  gone,  he  hardly  had  an  associate,  though  the 
esprit  de  corps  of  the  — th  prompted  the  cavalry  officers  to  be  civil  to 
him  when  he  appeared  at  the  billiard-room.  As  Mr.  Hurley  was  fond 
of  the  game,  an  element  of  awkwardness  was  manifest  the  first  time 
the  young  officers  appeared  with  their  engineer  friend.  Hayne  had  not 
set  foot  in  such  a  place  for  five  years,  and  quietly  declined  all  invita- 
tions to  take  a  cue  again.  It  was  remembered  of  him  that  he  played 
the  prettiest  game  of  French  caroms  of  all  the  officers  at  the  station 
when  he  joined  the  Riflers  as  a  boy.  Hurley  could  only  stay  a  very 
short  time,  and  the  subalterns  were  doing  their  best  to  make  it  lively 
for  him.  Some,  indeed,  showed  strong  inclination  to  devote  themselves 
to  Mrs.  Hurley ;  but  she  was  too  busy  with  her  brother's  household 
affairs  to  detect  their  projects.  Hurley  had  turned  very  red  and 
glared  at  Buxton  the  first  time  the  two  met  at  the  club-room,  but  the 
bulky  captain  speedily  found  cover  under  which  to  retire,  and  never 
again  showed  himself  in  general  society  until  the  engineer  with  the 
scientific  attainments  as  a  boxer  as  well  as  road-builder  was  safely  out 
of  the  post. 

And  yet  there  came  a  day  very  soon  when  Mr.  Hayne  wished  that 
he  could  go  to  Buxton's  quarters.  He  had  in  no  wise  changed  his 
opinion  of  the  man  himself,  but  the  Rayners  had  not  been  gone  a  fort- 
night before  Mrs.  Buxton  began  to  tell  the  ladies  of  the  charming  letters 
she  was  receiving  from  Mrs.  Rayner, — all  about  their  travels.  There 
were  many  things  he  longed  to  know,  yet  could  not  ask. 

There  came  to  him  a  long  and  sorrowful  letter  from  the  captain 
himself,  but,  beyond  a  few  matters  relating  to  the  company  and  the 
transfer  of  its  property,  it  was  all  given  up  to  a  recapitulation  of  the 
troubles  of  the  past  few  years  and  to  renewed  expressions  of  his  deep 
regret.  Of  the  ladies  he  made  but  casual  mention.  They  were  jour- 
neying down  the  Mississippi  on  one  of  its  big  steamers  when  he  wrote, 
and  Mrs.  Rayner  was  able  to  enjoy  the  novelties  of  the  trip,  and  was 
getting  better,  but  still  required  careful  nursing.  Miss  Travers  was 
devoted  to  her.  They  would  go  to  New  Orleans,  then  possibly  by  sea 
around  to  New  York,  arriving  there  about  the  5th  of  June  :  that,  how- 
ever, was  undecided.  He  closed  by  asking  Hayne  to  remind  Major 
Waldron  that  his  copy  of  Clancy's  confession  had  not  yet  reached  him, 
and  he  was  anxious  to  see  it  in  full. 


160  THE  DESERTER. 

"  The  one  thing  lacking  to  complete  the  chain  is  Gower,"  said  the 
major,  as  he  looked  up  over  his  spectacles.  "  It  would  be  difficult  to 
tell  what  became  of  him.  We  get  tidings  of  most  of  the  deserters  who 
were  as  prominent  among  the  men  as  he  appears  to  have  been  ;  but  I 
have  made  inquiry,  and  so  has  the  colonel,  and  not  a  word  has  ever  been 
heard  of  him  since  the  night  he  appeared  before  Mrs.  Clancy  and  handed 
over  the  money  to  her.  He  was  a  strange  character,  from  all  accounts, 
and  must  have  had  some  conscience,  after  all.  Do  you  remember  him 
at  all,  Hayne?" 

"I  remember  him  well.  We  made  the  march  from  the  Big  Horn 
over  to  Battle  Butte  together,  and  he  was  a  soldier  one  could  not  help 
remarking.  Of  course  I  never  had  anything  to  say  to  him ;  but  we 
heard  he  was  an  expert  gambler  when  the  troop  was  over  there  at 
Miners'  Delight." 

"Of  course  his  testimony  isn't  necessary.  Clancy  and  his  wife  be- 
tween them  have  cleared  you,  after  burying  you  alive  five  years.  But 
nothing  but  his  story  could  explain  his  singular  conduct, — planning  the 
whole  robbery,  executing  it  with  all  the  skill  of  a  professional  jail-bird, 
deserting  and  covering  several  hundred  miles  with  his  plunder,  then 
daring  to  go  to  the  old  fort,  find  Mrs.  Clancy,  and  surrender  every 
cent,  the  moment  he  heard  of  your  trial.  What  a  fiend  that  woman 
was !  No  wonder  she  drove  Clancy  to  drink !" 

"  Will  you  send  copies  of  her  admission  with  Clancy's  affidavits  ?" 
asked  Hayne. 

"  Here  they  are  in  full,"  answered  the  major.  "  The  colonel  talks 
of  having  them  printed  and  strewn  broadcast  as  warnings  against  '  snap 
judgment'  and  too  confident  testimony  in  future." 

Divested  of  the  legal  encumbrances  with  which  such  documents  are 
usually  weighted,  Clancy's  story  ran  substantially  as  follows  : 

"  I  was  sergeant  in  K  troop,  and  Gower  was  in  F.  We  had  been 
stationed  together  six  months  or  so  when  ordered  out  on  the  Indian 
campaign  that  summer.  I  was  dead-broke.  All  my  money  was  gone, 
and  my  wife  kept  bothering  me  for  more.  I  owed  a  lot  of  money 
around  head-quarters,  too,  and  Gower  knew  it,  and  sometimes  asked 
me  what  I  was  going  to  do  when  we  got  back  from  the  campaign.  We 
were  not  good  friends,  him  and  I.  There  was  money  dealings  between  us, 
and  then  there  was  talk  about  Mrs.  Clancy  fancying  him  too  much.  The 
paymaster  came  up  with  a  strong  escort  and  paid  off  the  boys  late  in 
October,  just  as  the  expedition  was  breaking  up  and  going  for  home, 


THE  DESERTER.  161 

and  all  the  officers  and  men  got  four  months'  pay.  There  was  Lieu- 
tenant Crane  and  twenty  men  of  F  troop  out  on  a  scout,  but  the  lieu- 
tenant had  left  his  pay-rolls  with  Captain  Hull,  and  the  men  had  all 
signed  before  they  started,  and  so  the  captain  he  drew  it  all  for  them 
and  put  each  man's  money  in  an  envelope  marked  with  his  name,  and 
the  lieutenant's  too,  and  then  crowded  it  all  into  some  bigger  envelopes. 
I  was  there  where  I  could  see  it  all,  and  Gower  was  watching  him  close. 
'  It's  a  big  pile  the  captain's  got,'  says  he.  '  I'd  like  to  be  a  road-agent 
and  nab  him.'  When  I  told  him  it  couldn't  be  over  eleven  hundred 
dollars,  he  says,  *  That's  only  part.  He  has  his  own  pay,  and  six  hun- 
dred dollars  company  fund,  and  a  wad  of  greenbacks  he's  been  carryin' 
around  all  summer.  It's  nigh  on  to  four  thousand  dollars  he's  got  in  his 
saddle-bags  this  day.' 

"  And  that  night,  instead  of  Lieutenant  Crane's  coming  back,  he 
sent  word  he  had  found  the  trail  of  a  big  band  of  Indians,  and  the 
whole  crowd  went  in  pursuit.  There  was  four  companies  of  infantry, 
under  Captain  Rayner,  and  F  and  K  troops, — what  was  left  of  them, — 
that  were  ordered  to  stay  by  the  wagons  and  bring  them  safely  down  ; 
and  we  started  with  them  over  towards  Battle  Butte,  keeping  south  of 
the  way  the  regiment  had  gone  to  follow  Mr.  Crane.  And  the  very 
next  day  Captain  Rayner  got  orders  to  bring  his  battalion  to  the  river 
and  get  on  the  boat,  while  the  wagons  kept  on  down  the  bank  with  us 
to  guard  them.  And  Mr.  Hayne  was  acting  quartermaster,  and  he 
stayed  with  us ;  and  him  and  Captain  Hull  was  together  a  good  deal. 
There  was  some  trouble,  we  heard,  because  Captain  Rayner  thought 
another  officer  should  have  been  made  quartermaster  and  Mr.  Hayne 
should  have  stayed  with  his  company,  and  they  had  some  words ;  but 
Captain  Hull  gave  Mr.  Hayne  a  horse  and  seemed  to  keep  him  with 
him ;  and  that  night,  in  sight  of  Battle  Butte,  the  steamboat  was  out  of 
sight  ahead  when  we  went  into  camp,  and  I  was  sergeant  of  the  guard 
and  had  my  fire  near  the  captain's  tent,  and  twice  in  the  evening 
Gower  came  to  me  and  said  now  was  the  time  to  lay  hands  on  the 
money  and  skip.  At  last  he  says  to  me,  '  You  are  flat-broke,  and 
they'll  all  be  down  on  you  when  you  get  back  to  the  post.  No  man  in 
America  wants  five  hundred  dollars  more  than  you  do.  I'll  give  you 
five  hundred  in  one  hour  from  now  if  you'll  get  the  captain  out  of 
his  tent  for  half  an  hour.'  Almost  everybody  was  asleep  then ;  the 
captain  was,  and  so  was  Mr.  Hayne,  and  he  went  on  to  tell  me  how  he 
could  do  it.  He'd  been  watching  the  captain.  It  made  such  a  big1 

14* 


162  THE  DESERTER. 

bundle,  did  the  money,  in  all  the  separate  envelopes  that  he  had  done  it 
all  up  different, — made  a  memorandum  of  the  amount  due  each  man, 
and  packed  the  greenbacks  all  together  in  one  solid  pile, — his  own 
money,  the  lieutenant's,  and  the  men's, — done  it  up  in  paper  and  tied  it 
firmly  and  put  big  blotches  of  green  sealing-wax  on  it  and  sealed  them 
with  the  seal  on  his  watch-chain.  Says  Grower,  '  You  get  the  captain 
out,  as  I  tell  you,  and  I'll  slip  right  in,  get  the  money,  stuff  some  other 
paper  with  a  few  ones  and  twos  in  the  package  ;  his  seal,  his  watch,  and 
everything  is  there  in  the  saddle-bags  under  his  head,  and  I  can  reseal 
and  replace  it  in  five  minutes,  and  he'll  never  suspect  the  loss  until  the 
command  all  gets  together  again  next  week.  By  that  time  I'll  be  three 
hundred  miles  away.  Everybody  will  say  'twas  Gower  that  robbed 
him,  and  you  with  your  five  hundred  will  never  be  suspected.'  I  asked 
him  how  could  he  expect  the  captain  to  go  and  leave  so  much  money 
in  his  bags  with  no  one  to  guard  it ;  and  he  said  he'd  bet  on  it  if  I  did 
it  right.  The  captain  had  had  no  luck  tracking  Indians  that  summer, 
and  the  regiment  was  laughing  at  him.  He  knew  they  were  scatter- 
ing every  which  way  now,  and  was  eager  to  strike  them.  All  I  had  to 
do  was  to  creep  in  excited-like,  wake  him  up  sudden,  and  tell  him  I  was 
sure  I  had  heard  an  Indian  drum  and  their  scalp-dance  song  out  beyond 
the  pickets, — that  they  were  over  towards  Battle  Butte,  and  he  could 
hear  them  if  he  would  come  out  on  the  river-bank.  *  He'd  go  quick/ 
Bays  Gower,  ( and  think  of  nothing.' 

"  And — I  wouldn't  believe  it,  but  he  did.  He  sprang  up  and  went 
right  out  with  me,  just  flinging  his  overcoat  round  him  ;  and  he  never 
seemed  to  want  to  come  in.  The  wind  was  blowing  soft-like  from  the 
southeast,  and  he  stood  there  straining  his  ears  trying  to  hear  the  sounds 
I  told  him  of;  but  at  last  he  gave  it  up,  and  we  went  back  to  camp,  and 
he  took  his  lantern  and  looked  in  his  saddle-bags,  and  I  shook  for  fear ; 
but  he  seemed  to  find  everything  all  right,  and  in  the  next  ten  minutes 
he  was  asleep,  and  Gower  came  and  whispered  to  me,  and  I  went  with 
him,  and  he  gave  me  five  hundred  dollars,  in  twenties.  l  Now  you're 
bound/  says  he ;  '  keep  the  sentries  off  while  I  get  my  horse.'  And 
that's  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  him.  Then  a  strange  thing  happened. 
'Twas  hardly  daylight  when  a  courier  came  galloping  up,  and  I  called 
the  captain,  and  he  read  the  despatch,  and  says  he,  '  By  heaven,  Clancy, 
you  were  right  after  all.  There  are  Indians  over  there.  Why  didn't  1 
trust  your  ears  ?  Call  up  the  whole  command.  The  Riflers  have  treed 
them  at  Battle  Butte,  and  Captain  Rayner  has  gone  with  his  battalion. 


THE  DESERTER.  163 

We  are  to  escort  the  wagons  to  where  the  boat  lies  beyond  the  bend,  and 
then  push  over  with  all  the  horsemen  we  can  take.'  It  was  after  day- 
light when  we  got  started,  but  we  almost  ran  the  wagons  'cross  country 
to  the  boat,  and  there  Captain  Hull  took  F  troop  and  what  there  was 
of  his  own,  leaving  only  ten  men  back  with  the  wagons ;  and  not  till 
then  was  Grower  missed ;  but  all  were  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  to  the 
Indians  that  no  one  paid  attention.  Mr.  Hayne  he  begged  the  captain 
to  let  him  go  too :  so  the  train  was  left  with  the  wagon-master  and  the 
captain  of  the  boat,  and  away  we  went.  You  know  all  about  the  fight, 
and  how  'twas  Mr.  Hayne  the  captain  called  to  and  gave  his  watch  and 
the  two  packages  of  money  when  he  was  ordered  to  charge.  I  was  right 
by  his  side ;  and  I  swore — God  forgive  me  ! — that  through  the  crack 
and  tear  in  the  paper  I  could  see  the  layers  of  greenbacks,  when  I  knew 
'twas  only  some  ones  and  twos  Gower  had  slipped  in  to  make  it  look 
right ;  and  Captain  Rayner  stood  there  and  saw  the  packet,  too,  and 
Sergeant  Walshe  and  Bugler  White ;  but  them  two  were  killed  with 
him :  so  that  'twas  only  Captain  Rayner  and  I  was  left  as  witnesses, 
and  never  till  we  got  to  Laramie  after  the  campaign  did  the  trouble 
come.  I  never  dreamed  of  anything  ever  coming  of  it  but  that  every 
one  would  say  Gower  stole  the  money  and  deserted;  but  when  the 
captain  turned  the  packages  over  to  Mr.  Hayne,  and  then  got  killed, 
and  Mr.  Hayne  carried  the  packages,  with  the  watch,  seal,  saddle-bags, 
and  all,  in  to  Cheyenne,  and  never  opened  them  till  he  got  there, — two 
weeks  after,  when  we  were  all  scattered, — then  they  turned  on  him,  his 
own  officers  did,  and  said  he  stole  it  and  gambled  or  sent  it  away  in 
Cheyenne. 

"  I  had  lost  much  of  my  money  then,  and  Mrs.  Clancy  got  the 
rest,  and  it  made  me  crazy  to  think  of  that  poor  young  gentleman 
accused  of  it  all ;  but  I  was  in  for  it,  and  knew  it  meant  prison  for 
years  for  me,  and  perhaps  they  couldn't  prove  it  on  him.  I  got  to 
drinking  then,  and  told  Captain  Rayner  that  the  — th  was  down  on  me 
for  swearing  away  the  young  officer's  character ;  and  then  he  took  me  to 
Company  B  when  the  colonel  wouldn't  have  me  any  more  in  the  — th ; 
and  one  night  when  Mrs.  Clancy  had  been  raising  my  hair  and  I  wanted 
money  to  drink  and  she'd  give  me  none,  little  Kate  told  me  her  mother 
had  lots  of  money  in  a  box,  and  that  Sergeant  Gower  had  come  and 
given  it  to  her  while  they  were  getting  settled  in  the  new  post  after  the 
Battle  Butte  campaign,  and  he  had  made  her  promise  to  give  it  to  me 
the  moment  I  got  back, — that  somebody  was  in  trouble,  and  that  I  must 


164  THE  DESERTER. 

save  him ;  and  I  believed  Kate,  and  charged  Mrs.  Clancy  with  it,  and 
she  beat  me  and  Kate,  and  swore  it  was  all  a  lie ;  and  I  never  could 
get  the  money.  And  at  last  came  the  fire ;  and  it  was  the  lieutenant 
that  saved  my  life  and  Kate's,  and  brought  back  to  her  all  that  pile  of 
money  through  the  flames.  It  broke  my  heart  then,  and  I  vowed  I'd  go 
and  tell  him  the  truth ;  but  they  wouldn't  let  me.  She  told  me  the 
captain  said  he  would  kill  me  if  I  blabbed,  and  she  would  kill  Kate. 
I  didn't  dare,  until  they  told  me  my  discharge  had  come ;  and  then  I 
was  glad  when  the  lieutenant  and  the  major  caught  me  in  town.  When 
they  promised  to  take  care  of  little  Kate  I  didn't  care  what  happened 
to  me.  The  money  Mrs.  Clancy  has — except  perhaps  two  hundred 
dollars — all  belongs  to  Lieutenant  Hayne,  since  he  paid  off'  every  cent 
that  was  stolen  from  Captain  Hull." 

Supplemented  by  Mrs.  Clancy's  rueful  and  incoherent  admissions, 
Clancy's  story  did  its  work.  Mrs.  Clancy  could  not  long  persist  in  her 
various  denials  after  her  husband's  confession  was  brought  to  her  ears, 
and  she  was  totally  unable  to  account  satisfactorily  for  the  possession 
of  so  much  money.  Little  Kate  had  been  too  young  to  grasp  the  full 
meaning  of  what  Gower  said  to  her  mother  in  that  hurried  interview ; 
but  her  reiterated  statements  that  he  came  late  at  night,  before  the  regi- 
ment got  home,  and  knocked  at  the  door  until  he  waked  them  up,  and 
her  mother  cried  when  he  came  in,  he  looked  so  different,  and  had 
spectacles,  and  a  patch  on  his  cheek,  and  ranch  clothes,  and  he  only 
stayed  a  little  while,  and  told  her  mother  he  must  go  back  to  the  moun- 
tains, the  police  were  on  his  track, — she  knew  now  he  spoke  of  having 
deserted, — and  he  gave  her  mother  lots  of  money,  for  she  opened  and 
counted  it  afterwards  and  told  her  it  must  all  go  to  papa  to  get  some 
one  out  of  trouble, — all  were  so  clear  and  circumstantial  that  at  last 
the  hardened  woman  began  to  break  down  and  make  reluctant  ad- 
missions. When  an  astute  sheriff's  officer  finally  told  her  that  he  knew 
where  he  could  lay  hands  on  Sergeant  Gower,  she  surrendered  utterly. 
So  long  as  he  was  out  of  the  way, — could  not  be  found, — she  held  out ; 
but  the  prospect  of  dragging  into  prison  with  her  the  man  who  had 
spurned  her  in  years  gone  by  and  was  proof  against  her  fascinations 
was  too  alluring.  She  told  all  she  could  at  his  expense.  He  had 
ridden  eastward  after  his  desertion,  and,  making  his  way  down  the  Mis- 
souri, had  stopped  at  Yankton  and  gone  thence  to  Kansas  City,  spend- 
ing much  of  his  money.  He  had  reached  Denver  with  the  rest,  and 
there — she  knew  not  how — had  made  or  received  more,  when  he  heard 


THE  DESERTER  165 

of  the  fact  that  Captain  Hull  had  turned  over  his  property  to  Lieu- 
tenant Hayne  just  before  he  was  killed,  and  that  the  lieutenant  was  now 
to  be  tried  for  failing  to  account  for  it.  He  brought  her  enough  to 
cover  all  he  had  taken,  but — here  she  lied — strove  to  persuade  her  to  go 
to  San  Francisco  with  him.  She  promised  to  think  of  it  if  he  would 
leave  the  money, — which  he  did,  swearing  he  would  come  for  her  and 
it.  That  was  why  she  dared  not  tell  Mike  when  he  got  home.  He 
was  so  jealous  of  her. 

To  this  part  of  her  statement  Mrs.  Clancy  stoutly  adhered;  but 
the  officers  believed  Kate. 

One  other  thing  she  told.  Kate  had  declared  he  wore  a  heavy 
patch  on  his  right  cheek  and  temple.  Yes,  Mrs.  Clancy  remembered 
it.  Some  scoundrels  had  sought  to  rob  him  in  Denver.  He  had  to 
fight  for  life  and  money  both,  and  his  share  of  the  honors  of  the  fray 
was  a  deep  and  clean  cut  extending  across  the  cheek-bone  and  up  above 
the  right  ear. 

As  these  family  revelations  were  told  throughout  the  garrison  and 
comment  of  every  kind  was  made  thereon,  there  is  reason  for  the  be- 
lief that  Mrs.  Buxton  found  no  difficulty  in  filling  her  letters  with 
particulars  of  deep  interest  to  her  readers,  who  by  this  time  had  carried 
out  the  programme  indicated  by  Captain  Rayner.  Mid-June  had  come ; 
the  ladies,  apparently  benefited  by  the  sea-voyage,  had  landed  in  New 
York  and  were  speedily  driven  to  their  old  quarters  at  the  Westminster ; 
and  while  the  captain  went  to  head-quarters  of  the  department  to  re- 
port his  arrival  on  leave  and  get  his  letters,  a  card  was  sent  up  to  Miss 
Travers  which  she  read  with  cheeks  that  slightly  paled : 

"He  is  here,  Kate." 

"  Nellie,  you — you  won't  throw  him  over,  after  all  he  has  done  and 
borne  for  you  ?" 

"  I  shall  keep  my  promise,"  was  the  answer. 

XX. 

"And  so  she's  really  going  to  marry  Mr.  Van  Antwerp,"  said 
Mrs.  Buxton  to  Mrs.  Waldron  a  few  days  later  in  the  month  of  sun- 
shine and  roses. 

"  I  did  not  think  it  possible  when  she  left,"  was  the  reply.  "  Why 
do  you  say  so  now  ?" 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Rayner  writes  that  the  captain  had  to  go  to  Washing- 


166  THE  DESERTER. 

ton  on  some  important  family  matters,  and  that  she  and  Nellie  were  at 
the  sea-shore  again,  and  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  was  with  them  from  morn- 
ing till  night.  He  looked  so  worn  and  haggard,  she  said,  that  Nellie 
could  not  but  take  pity  on  him.  Heavens !  think  of  having  five 
hundred  thousand  dollars  sighing  its  life  away  for  you ! — especially 
when  he's  handsome.  Mrs.  Rayner  made  me  promise  to  send  it  right 
back,  because  he  would  never  give  her  one  before,  but  she  sent  his 
picture.  It's  splendid.  Wait,  and  I'll  show  you."  And  Mrs.  Bux- 
ton  darted  into  the  house. 

When  she  reappeared,  three  or  four  young  cavalrymen  were  at  the 
gate,  chatting  with  Mrs.  Waldron,  and  the  picture  was  passed  from 
hand  to  hand,  exciting  varied  comment.  It  was  a  simple  carte  de  visite, 
of  the  style  once  spoken  of  as  vignette,— only  the  head  and  shoulders 
being  visible, — but  it  was  the  picture  of  a  strong,  clear-cut  face,  with 
thick,  wavy  black  hair  just  tingeing  with  gray,  a  drooping  moustache, 
and  long  English  whiskers.  The  eyes  were  heavy-browed,  and,  though 
partially  shaded  by  the  gold-rimmed  pince-nez,  were  piercing  and  fine. 
Mr.  Van  Antwerp  was  unquestionably  a  fine-looking  man. 

"  Here  comes  Hayne,"  said  Royce.  "  Show  it  to  him.  He  likes 
pictures ;  though  I  wouldn't  like  this  one  if  I  were  in  his  place." 

Mr.  Hayne  stopped  in  some  surprise  when  hailed,  greeted  Mrs. 
Waldron  warmly,  and  bowed  courteously  to  Mrs.  Buxton,  who  was 
watching  him  narrowly. 

"  Want  to  see  a  picture  of  the  man  you  ought  to  go  and  perforate  ?" 
asked  Webster,  with  that  lofty  indifference  which  youngsters  have  to 
the  ravages  of  the  tender  passion  on  subjects  other  than  themselves. 

"To  whom  do  you  refer?"  asked  Hayne,  smiling  gravely,  and 
little  imagining  what  was  in  store  for  him. 

"  This,"  said  Webster,  holding  out  the  card.  Hayne  took  it,  gave 
one  glance,  started,  seized  it  with  both  hands,  studied  it  eagerly,  while 
his  own  face  rapidly  paled,  then  looked  up  with  quick,  searching  eyes. 

"Who  is  this?"  he  asked. 

"  The  man  who's  engaged  to  Miss  Travers, — Mr.  Van  Antwerp." 

"  This — this — Mr.  Van  Antwerp !"  exclaimed  Hayne,  his  face 
white  as  a,  sheet.  "  Here,  take  it,  Royce !"  And  in  an  instant  he 
had  turned  and  gone. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  knew  he  was  that  hard  hit,"  drawled 
Webster.  "  Did  you,  Royce  ?" 

But  Royce  did  not  answer. 


THE  DESERTER.  167 

A  gorgeous  moonlight  is  bathing  the  Jersey  coast  in  sparkling 
silver.  The  tumbling  billows  come  thundering  in  to  the  shining 
strand,  and  sending  their  hissing,  seething,  whirling  waters,  all  shim- 
mer and  radiance,  to  the  very  feet  of  the  groups  of  spectators.  There 
are  hundreds  of  people  scattered  here  and  there  along  the  shingle,  and 
among  the  groups  a  pale-faced  young  man  in  tweed  travelling-suit  has 
made  his  way  to  a  point  where  he  can  command  a  view  of  all  the 
passers-by.  It  is  nearly  eleven  o'clock  before  they  begin  to  break  up 
and  seek  the  broad  corridors  of  the  brilliantly-lighted  hotel.  A  great 
military  band  of  nearly  forty  pieces  is  playing  superbly  at  intervals, 
and  every  now  and  then,  as  some  stirring  martial  strains  come  thrilling 
through  the  air,  a  young  girl  in  a  group  near  at  hand  beats  time  with 
her  pretty  foot  and  seems  to  quiver  with  the  influence  of  the  soldier 
melodies.  A  tall,  dark-eyed,  dark-haired  man  bends  devotedly  ovei 
her,  but  he,  too,  seems  to  rise  to  his  full  height  at  times,  and  there  is 
something  in  the  carriage  and  mien  that  tells  that  soldier  songs  have 
thrilled  his  veins  ere  now.  And  this  man  the  young  traveller  in  gray 
watches  as  though  his  eyes  were  fascinated.  Standing  in  the  shade  of 
a  little  summer-house,  he  never  ceases  his  scrutiny  of  the  group. 

At  last  the  musicians  go,  and  the  people  follow.  The  sands  are 
soon  deserted ;  the  great  piazzas  are  emptied  of  their  promenaders ;  the 
halls  and  corridors  are  still  patronized  by  the  few  belated  chaperons 
and  their  giddy  charges.  The  music-loving  girl  has  gone  aloft  to  her 
room,  and  her  aunt,  the  third  member  of  the  group  that  so  chained  the 
attention  of  the  young  man  in  gray,  lingers  for  a  moment  to  exchange 
a  few  words  with  their  cavalier.  He  seems  in  need  of  consolation. 

"  Don't  be  so  down-hearted,  Mr.  Van  Antwerp.  It  is  very  early  in 
the  summer,  and  you  have  the  whole  season  before  you." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Rayner :  it  is  very  different  from  last  year.  I  cannot 
explain  it,  but  I  know  there  has  been  a  change.  I  feel  as — as  I  used 
to  in  my  old,  wild  days  when  a  change  of  luck  was  coming.  It's  like 
the  gambler's  superstition  ;  but  I  cannot  shake  it  off.  Something  told 
me  she  was  lost  to  me  when  you  boarded  that  Pacific  Express  last  Feb- 
ruary. I  was  a  fool  ever  to  have  let  her  go." 

"  Is  she  still  so  determined  ?" 

"  I  cannot  shake  her  resolution.  She  says  that  at  the  end  of  the 
year's  time  originally  agreed  upon  she  will  keep  her  promise ;  but  she 
will  listen  to  no  earlier  marriage.  I  have  about  given  up  all  hope. 
Something  again — that  fearful  something  I  cannot  shake  off — tells  me 


168  THE  DESERTER. 

that  ray  only  chance  lay  in  getting  her  to  go  with  me  this  month.  Once 
abroad  with  her,  I  could  make  her  happy ;  but " 

He  breaks  off  irresolutely,  looking  about  him  in  the  strange,  hunted 
manner  she  has  noted  once  or  twice  already. 

"  You  are  all  unstrung,  Mr.  Van  Antwerp.  Why  not  go  to  bed 
and  try  and  sleep  ?  You  will  be  so  much  brighter  to-morrow." 

"  I  cannot  sleep.  But  don't  let  me  keep  you.  I'll  go  out  and  smoke 
a  cigar.  Good-night,  Mrs.  Rayner.  Whatever  comes  of  it  all,  I  shall 
not  forget  your  kindness." 

So  he  turns  away,  and  she  still  stands  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase, 
watching  him  uneasily.  He  has  aged  greatly  in  the  past  few  months. 
She  is  shocked  to  see  how  gray,  how  fitful,  nervous,  irritable,  he  has 
become.  As  he  moves  towards  the  door-way,  she  notes  how  thin  his 
cheek  has  grown,  and  wonders  at  the  irresolution  in  his  movements 
when  he  reaches  the  broad  piazza.  He  stands  there  an  instant,  the 
massive  door-way  forming  a  frame  for  a  picture  en  silhouette,  his  tall 
spare  figure  thrown  black  upon  the  silver  sea  beyond.  He  looks  up  and 
down  the  now-deserted  galleries,  fumbles  in  his  pockets  for  his  cigar-case, 
bites  off  with  nervous  clip  the  end  of  a  huge  "  Regalia,"  strikes  a  light, 
and  before  the  flame  is  half  applied  to  his  weed  throws  it  away,  then 
turns  sharply  and  strides  out  of  sight  towards  the  office. 

Another  instant,  and,  as  though  in  pursuit,  a  second  figure,  erect, 
soldierly,  with  quick  and  bounding  step  strides  across  the  glittering 
moon-streak,  and  Mrs.  Rayner's  heart  stands  still. 

Only  for  an  instant,  though.  She  has  seen  and  recognized  Lawrence 
Hayne.  Concealed  from  them  he  is  following  Mr.  Van  Antwerp,  and 
there  can  be  but  one  purpose  in  his  coming  here, — Nellie.  But  what 
can  he  want  with  her — her  rightful  lover  ?  She  springs  from  the  lower 
step  on  which  she  has  been  standing,  runs  across  the  tessellated  floor, 
and  stops  short  in  the  door-way,  gazing  after  the  two  figures.  She  is 
startled  to  find  them  close  at  hand, — one,  Van  Antwerp,  close  to  the 
railing,  facing  towards  her,  his  features  ghastly  in  the  moonlight,  his 
left  hand  resting,  and  supporting  him,  on  one  of  the  tall  wooden  pil- 
lars ;  the  other,  Hayne,  with  white  clinching  fists,  advancing  upon 
him.  Above  the  low  boom  and  roar  of  the  surf  she  distinctly  hears  the 
clear  tenor  ring  of  his  voice  in  the  tone  of  command  she  last  heard 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Rockies,  two  thousand  miles  away : 

«  Halt !" 

No  wonder  a  gentleman  in  civil  life  looks  amazed  at  so  peremptory 


THE  DESERTER.  169 

a  summons  from  a  total  stranger.  In  his  high  indignation  will  he  not 
strike  the  impertinent  subaltern  to  earth  ?  As  a  well-bred  woman,  it 
occurs  to  her  that  she  ought  to  rush  out  and  avert  hostilities  by  in- 
troducing them,  or  something  ;  but  she  has  no  time  to  act.  The  next 
words  simply  take  her  breath  away : 

"Sergeant  Gower,  I  arrest  you  as  a  deserter  and  thief!  You  de- 
serted from  F  troop,  — th  Cavalry,  at  Battle  Butte  !" 

She  sees  the  fearful  gleam  on  the  dark  man's  face ;  there  is  a  sudden 
spring,  a  clinch,  a  straining  to  and  fro  of  two  forms, — one  tall,  black, 
snaky,  the  other  light,  lithe,  agile,  and  trained ;  muttered  curse,  panting 
breath,  and  then,  sure  as  fate,  the  taller  man  is  being  borne  backward 
against  the  rail.  She  sees  the  dark  arm  suddenly  relax  its  grasp  of  the 
gray  form  and  disappear  an  instant.  Then,  there  it  comes  again,  and 
with  it  a  gleam  of  steel.  With  one  shriek  of  warning  and  terror  she 
springs  towards  them, — -just  in  time.  Hayne  glances  up,  catches  the 
lifted  wrist,  hurls  his  whole  weight  upon  the  tottering  figure,  and  over 
goes  the  Knickerbocker  prone  upon  the  floor.  Hayne  turns  one  in- 
stant :  "  Go  in-doors,  Mrs.  Rayner.  This  is  no  place  for  you.  Leave 
him  to  me." 

And  in  that  instant,  before  either  can  prevent,  Steven  Van  Antwerp, 
alias  Gower,  springs  to  his  feet,  leaps  over  the  balcony  rail,  and  disap- 
pears in  the  depths  below.  It  is  a  descent  of  not  more  than  ten  feet  to 
the  sands  beyond  the  dark  passage  that  underlies  the  piazza,  but  he  has 
gone  down  into  the  passage  itself.  When  Mr.  Hayne,  running  down 
the  steps,  gains  his  way  to  the  space  beneath  the  piazza,  no  trace  of  the 
fugitive  can  he  find. 

Nor  does  Mr.  Van  Antwerp  appear  at  breakfast  on  the  following 
morning,  nor  again  to  any  person  known  to  this  story.  An  officer  of 
the  — th  Cavalry,  spending  a  portion  of  the  following  winter  in  Paris, 
writes  that  he  met  him  face  to  face  one  day  in  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre. 
Being  in  civilian  costume,  of  course,  and  much  changed  in  appearance 
since  he  was  a  youth  in  the  straps  of  a  second  lieutenant,  it  was  possible 
for  him  to  take  a  good  long  look  at  the  man  he  had  not  seen  since  he 
wore  the  chevrons  of  a  dashing  sergeant  in  the  Battle  Butte  campaign. 
"  He  has  grown  almost  white/'  wrote  the  lieutenant,  "  and  I'm  told  he 
has  abandoned  his  business  in  New  York  and  never  will  return  to  the 
United  States." 

Rayner,  too,  has  grown  gray.  A  telegram  from  his  wife  sum- 
H  15 


170  THE  DESERTER. 

moned  him  to  the  sea-side  from  Washington  the  day  after  this  strange 
adventure  of  hers.  He  found  her  somewhat  prostrate,  his  sister-in- 
law  very  pale  and  quiet,  and  the  clerks  of  the  hotel  unable  to  account 
for  the  disappearance  of  Mr.  Van  Antwerp.  Lieutenant  Hayne,  they 
said,  had  told  them  he  received  news  which  compelled  him  to  go  back 
to  New  York  at  once ;  but  the  gentleman's  traps  were  all  in  his  room. 
Mr.  Hayne,  too,  had  gone  to  New  York ;  and  thither  the  captain 
followed.  A  letter  came  to  him  at  the  Westminster  which  he  read  and 
handed  in  silence  to  Hayne.  It  was  as  follows : 

"  By  the  time  this  reaches  you  I  shall  be  beyond  reach  of  the  law 
and  on  my  way  to  Europe  to  spend  what  may  be  left  of  my  days.  I 
hope  they  may  be  few ;  for  the  punishment  that  has  fallen  upon  me  is 
more  than  I  can  bear,  though  no  more  than  I  deserve.  You  have  heard 
that  my  college  days  were  wild,  and  that  after  repeated  warnings  my 
father  drove  me  from  home,  sending  me  to  Wyoming  to  embark  in  the 
cattle-business.  I  preferred  gambling,  and  lost  what  he  gave  me.  There 
•was  nothing  then  left  but  to  enlist ;  and  I  joined  the  — th.  Mother 
still  believed  me  in  or  near  Denver,  and  wrote  regularly  there.  The 
life  was  horrible  to  me  after  the  luxury  and  lack  of  restraint  I  had 
enjoyed,  and  I  meant  to  desert.  Chance  threw  in  my  way  that  tempta- 
tion. I  robbed  poor  Hull  the  night  before  he  was  killed,  repacked  the 
paper  so  that  even  the  torn  edges  would  show  the  greenbacks,  resealed 
it, — all  just  as  I  have  had  to  hear  through  her  pure  and  sacred  lips  it 
was  finally  told  and  her  lover  saved. 

"  God  knows  I  was  shocked  when  I  heard  in  Denver  he  was  to  be 
tried  for  the  crime.  I  hastened  to  Cheyenne,  not  daring  to  show  my- 
self to  him  or  any  one,  and  restored  every  cent  of  the  money,  placing 
it  in  Mrs.  Clancy's  hands,  as  I  dared  not  stay ;  but  I  had  hoped  to 
give  it  to  Clancy,  who  had  not  arrived.  The  police  knew  me,  and  I 
had  to  go.  I  gave  every  cent  I  had,  and  walked  back  to  Denver,  then 
got  word  to  mother  of  my  fearful  danger ;  and,  though  she  never  knew 
I  was  a  deserter,  she  sent  me  money,  and  I  came  East  and  went 
abroad.  Then  my  whole  life  changed.  I  was  appalled  to  think  how 
low  I  had  fallen.  I  shunned  companionship,  studied,  did  well  at 
Heidelberg ;  father  forgave  me,  and  died ;  but  God  has  not  forgiven, 
*nd  at  the  moment  when  I  thought  my  life  redeemed  this  retribution 
overtakes  me. 

"  If  I  may  ask  anything,  it  is  that  mother  may  never  know  the 


THE  DESERTER.  171 

truth.     I  will  tell  her  that  Nellie  could  not  love  me,  and  I  could  not 
bear  to  stay." 

Some  few  weeks  later  that  summer  Miss  Travers  stood  by  the  same 
balcony  rail,  with  an  open  letter  in  her  hand.  There  was  a  soft  flush 
on  her  pretty,  peachy  cheek,  and  a  far-away  look  in  her  sweet  blue 
eyes. 

"What  news  from  Warrener,  Nellie?"  asked  Mrs.  Rayner. 

"  Fluffy  has  reappeared." 

"Indeed!     Where?" 

"  At  Mr.  Hayne's.  He  writes  that  as  he  returned,  the  moment  he 
entered  the  hall  she  came  running  up  to  him,  arching  her  back  and 
purring  her  delight  and  welcoming  him  just  as  though  she  belonged 
there  now ;  and " 

"And  what,  Nellie?" 

"He  says  he  means  to  keep  her  until  I  come  to  claim  her." 


FROM  THE  RANKS. 


FKOM  THE  RANKS. 


A  STRANGE  thing  had  happened  at  the  old  fort  during  the  still 
J\.  watches  of  the  night.  Even  now,  at  nine  in  the  morning,  no 
one  seemed  to  be  in  possession  of  the  exact  circumstances.  The  officer 
of  the  day  was  engaged  in  an  investigation,  and  all  that  appeared  to  be 
generally  known  was  the  bald  statement  that  the  sentry  on  "  Number 
Five"  had  fired  at  somebody  or  other  about  half  after  three ;  that  he 
had  fired  by  order  of  the  officer  of  the  day,  who  was  on  his  post  at 
the  time ;  and  that  now  he  flatly  refused  to  talk  about  the  matter. 

Garrison  curiosity,  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  say,  was  rather  stimu- 
lated than  lulled  by  this  announcement.  An  unusual  number  of  officers 
were  chatting  about  head-quarters  when  Colonel  Maynard  came  over  to 
his  office.  Several  ladies,  too,  who  had  hitherto  shown  but  languid 
interest  in  the  morning  music  of  the  band,  had  taken  the  trouble  to 
stroll  down  to  the  old  quadrangle,  ostensibly  to  see  guard-mounting. 
Mrs.  Maynard  was  almost  always  on  her  piazza  at  this  time,  and  her 
lovely  daughter  was  almost  sure  to  be  at  the  gate  with  two  or  three 
young  fellows  lounging  about  her.  This  morning,  however,  not  a  soul 
appeared  in  front  of  the  colonel's  quarters. 

Guard-mounting  at  the  fort  was  not  held  until  nine  o'clock,  con- 
trary to  the  somewhat  general  custom  at  other  posts  in  our  scattered 
army.  Colonel  Maynard  had  ideas  of  his  own  upon  the  subject,  and 
it  was  his  theory  that  everything  worked  more  smoothly  if  he  had 
finished  a  leisurely  breakfast  before  beginning  office-work  of  any  kind, 
and  neither  the  colonel  nor  his  family  cared  to  breakfast  before  eight 
o'clock.  In  view  of  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Maynard  had  borne  that  name 
but  a  very  short  time  and  that  her  knowledge  of  army  life  dated  only 
from  the  month  of  May,  the  garrison  was  disposed  to  consider  her  en« 


176  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

titled  to  much  latitude  of  choice  in  such  matters,  even  while  it  did  say 
that  she  was  old  enough  to  be  above  bride-like  sentiment.  The  women- 
folk at  the  fort  were  of  opinion  that  Mrs.  Maynard  was  fifty.  It  must 
be  conceded  that  she  was  over  forty,  also  that  this  was  her  second  entry 
into  the  bonds  of  matrimony. 

That  no  one  should  now  appear  on  the  colonel's  piazza  was  obvi- 
ously a  disappointment  to  several  people.  In  some  way  or  other  most 
of  the  breakfast-tables  at  the  post  had  been  enlivened  by  accounts  of 
the  mysterious  shooting.  The  soldiers  going  the  rounds  with  the 
"  police-cart,"  the  butcher  and  grocer  and  baker  from  town,  the  old 
milkwoman  with  her  glistening  cans,  had  all  served  as  newsmongers 
from  kitchen  to  kitchen,  and  the  story  that  came  in  with  the  coffee  to 
the  lady  of  the  house  had  lost  nothing  in  bulk  or  bravery.  The  groups 
of  officers  chatting  and  smoking  in  front  of  head-quarters  gained  acces- 
sions every  moment,  while  the  ladies  seemed  more  absorbed  in  chat  and 
confidences  than  in  the  sweet  music  of  the  band. 

What  fairly  exasperated  some  men  was  the  fact  that  the  old  officer 
of  the  day  was  not  out  on  the  parade  where  he  belonged.  Only  the 
new  incumbent  was  standing  there  in  statuesque  pose  as  the  band 
trooped  along  the  line,  and  the  fact  that  the  colonel  had  sent  out  word 
that  the  ceremony  would  proceed  without  Captain  Chester  only  served 
to  add  fuel  to  the  flame  of  popular  conjecture.  It  was  known  that  the 
colonel  was  holding  a  consultation  with  closed  doors  with  the  old 
officer  of  the  day,  and  never  before  since  he  came  to  the  regiment  had 
the  colonel  been  known  to  look  so  pale  and  strange  as  when  he  glanced 
out  for  just  one  moment  and  called  his  orderly.  The  soldier  sprang  up, 
saluted,  received  his  message,  and,  with  every  eye  following  him,  sped 
off  towards  the  old  stone  guard-house.  In  three  minutes  he  was  on 
his  way  back,  accompanied  by  a  corporal  and  private  of  the  guard  in 
full  dress  uniform. 

"  That's  Leary,— the  man  who  fired  the  shot,"  said  Captain  Wilton 
to  his  senior  lieutenant,  who  stood  by  his  side. 

"Belongs  to  B  Company,  doesn't  he?"  queried  the  subaltern. 
"  Seems  to  me  I  have  heard  Captain  Armitage  say  he  was  one  of  his 
best  men." 

"Yes.  He's  been  in  the  regiment  as  long  as  I  can  remember. 
What  on  earth  can  the  colonel  want  him  for  ?  Near  as  I  can  learn,  he 
only  fired  by  Chester's  order." 

"  And  neither  of  them  knows  what  he  fired  at." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  177 

It  was  perhaps  ten  minutes  more  before  Private  Leary  came  forth 
from  the  door-way  of  the  colonel's  office,  nodded  to  the  corporal,  and, 
raising  their  white-gloved  hands  in  salute  to  the  group  of  officers,  the 
two  men  tossed  their  rifles  to  the  right  shoulder  and  strode  back  to  the 
guard. 

Another  moment,  and  the  colonel  himself  opened  his  door  and  ap- 
peared in  the  hall- way.  He  stopped  abruptly,  turned  back  and  spoke 
a  few  words  in  low  tone,  then  hurried  through  the  groups  at  the  en- 
trance, looking  at  no  man,  avoiding  their  glances,  and  giving  faint  and 
impatient  return  to  the  soldierly  salutations  that  greeted  him.  The 
sweat  was  beaded  on  his  forehead ;  his  lips  were  white,  and  his  face  full 
of  a  trouble  and  dismay  no  man  had  ever  seen  there  before.  He  spoke 
to  no  one,  but  walked  rapidly  homeward,  entered,  and  closed  the  gate 
and  door  behind  him. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  in  the  group.  Few  men  in  the 
service  were  better  loved  and  honored  than  the  veteran  soldier  who 

commanded  the  th  Infantry;  and  it  was  with  genuine  concern 

that  his  officers  saw  him  so  deeply  and  painfully  affected, — for  affected 
he  certainly  was.  Never  before  had  his  cheery  voice  denied  them  a 
cordial  "  Good-morning,  gentlemen."  Never  before  had  his  blue  eyes 
flinched.  He  had  been  their  comrade  and  commander  in  years  of 
frontier  service,  and  his  bachelor  home  had  been  the  rendezvous  of  all 
genial  spirits  when  in  garrison.  They  had  missed  him  sorely  when  he 
went  abroad  on  long  leave  the  previous  year,  and  were  almost  indig- 
nant when  they  received  the  news  that  he  had  met  his  fate  in  Italy  and 
would  return  married.  "She"  was  the  widow  of  a  wealthy  New- 
Yorker  who  had  been  dead  some  three  years  only,  and,  though  over 
forty,  did  not  look  her  years  to  masculine  eyes  when  she  reached  the 
fort  in  May.  After  knowing  her  a  week,  the  garrison  had  decided  to 
a  man  that  the  colonel  had  done  wisely.  Mrs.  Maynard  was  charming, 
courteous,  handsome,  and  accomplished.  Only  among  the  women  were 
there  still  a  few  who  resented  their  colonel's  capture ;  and  some  of 
these,  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  they  had  tempted  him  with  rela- 
tions of  their  own,  were  sententious  and  severe  in  their  condemnation 
of  second  marriage ;  for  the  colonel,  too,  was  indulging  in  a  second  ex- 
periment. Of  his  first,  only  one  man  in  the  regiment,  besides  the  com- 
mander, could  tell  anything ;  and  he,  to  the  just  indignation  of  almost 
everybody,  would  not  discuss  the  subject.  It  was  rumored  that  in  the 
old  days  when  Maynard  was  senior  captain  and  Chester  junior  sub- 


178  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

altern  in  their  former  regiment  the  two  had  very  little  in  common.  It 
was  known  that  the  first  Mrs.  Maynard,  while  still  young  and  beautiful, 
had  died  abroad.  It  was  hinted  that  the  resignation  of  a  dashing 
lieutenant  of  the  regiment,  which  was  synchronous  with  her  departure 
for  foreign  shores,  was  demanded  by  his  brother  officers ;  but  it  was 
useless  asking  Captain  Chester.  He  could  not  tell ;  and — wasn't  it 
odd? — here  was  Chester  again,  the  only  man  in  the  colonel's  confi- 
dence in  an  hour  of  evident  trouble. 

"  By  Jove !  what's  gone  wrong  with  the  chief?"  was  the  first , 
exclamation  from  one  of  the  older  officers.  "  I  never  saw  him  look  so " 
broken." 

As  no  explanation  suggested  itself,  they  began  edging  in  towards 
the  office.  The  door  stood  open ;  a  hand-bell  banged ;  a  clerk  darted 
in  from  the  sergeant-major's  rooms,  and  Captain  Chester  was  revealed 
seated  at  the  colonel's  desk.  This  in  itself  was  sufficient  to  induce 
several  officers  to  stroll  in  and  look  inquiringly  around.  Captain 
Chester,  merely  nodding,  went  on  with  some  writing  at  which  he  was 
engaged. 

After  a  moment's  awkward  silence  and  uneasy  glancing  at  one  an- 
other, the  party  seemed  to  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  it  was  time  to 
speak.  The  band  had  ceased,  and  the  new  guard  had  marched  away 
behind  its  pealing  bugles.  Lieutenant  Hall  winked  at  his  comrades, 
strolled  hesitatingly  over  to  the  desk,  balanced  unsteadily  on  one  leg, 
and,  with  his  hands  sticking  in  his  trousers-pockets  and  his  forage-cap 
swinging  from  protruding  thumb  and  forefinger,  cleared  his  throat,  and, 
with  marked  lack  of  confidence,  accosted  his  absorbed  superior : 

"  Colonel  gone  home  ?" 

"  Didn't  you  see  him  ?"  was  the  uncompromising  reply ;  and  the 
captain  did  not  deign  to  raise  his  head  or  eyes. 

"  Well — er — yes,  I  suppose  I  did,"  said  Mr.  Hall,  shifting  uncom- 
fortably to  his  other  leg,  and  prodding  the  floor  with  the  toe  of  his 
boot. 

"  Then  that  wasn't  what  you  wanted  to  know,  I  presume,"  said 
Captain  Chester,  signing  his  name  with  a  vicious  dab  of  the  pen  and 
bringing  his  fist  down  with  a  thump  on  the  blotting-pad,  while  he 
wheeled  around  in  his  chair  and  looked  squarely  up  into  the  perturbed 
foa/.ures  of  the  junior. 

"  No,  it  wasn't,"  answered  Mr.  Hall,  in  an  injured  tone,  while  an  ^ 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  179 

audible  snicker  at  the  door  added  to  his  sense  of  discomfort.  "  What 
I  mainly  wanted  was  to  know  could  I  go  to  town." 

"  That  matter  is  easily  arranged,  Mr.  Hall.  All  you  have  to  do  is 
to  get  out  of  that  uncomfortable  and  unsoldierly  position,  stand  in  the 
attitude  in  which  you  are  certainly  more  at  home  and  infinitely  more 
picturesque,  proffer  your  request  in  respectful  words,  and  there  is  no 
question  as  to  the  result." 

"Oh  !  you're  in  command,  then?"  said  Mr.  Hall,  slowly  wriggling 
into  the  position  of  the  soldier  and  flushing  through  his  bronzed 
cheeks.  "  I  thought  the  colonel  might  be  only  gone  for  a  minute." 

"  The  colonel  may  not  be  back  for  a  week ;  but  you  be  here  for 

dress-parade  all  the  same,  and Mr.  Hall !"  he  called,  as  the  young 

officer  was  turning  away.  The  latter  faced  about  again. 

"  Was  Mr.  Jerrold  going  with  you  to  town  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  was  to  drive  me  in  his  dog-cart,  and  it's  over  here 
now." 

"  Mr.  Jerrold  cannot  go, — at  least  not  until  I  have  seen  him." 

"Why,  captain,  he  got  the  colonel's  permission  at  breakfast  this 
morning." 

"  That  is  true,  no  doubt,  Mr.  Hall."  And  the  captain  dropped  his 
sharp  and  captious  manner,  and  his  voice  fell,  as  though  in  sympathy 
with  the  cloud  that  settled  on  his  face.  "  I  cannot  explain  matters  just 
now.  There  are  reasons  why  the  permission  is  withdrawn  for  the  time 
being.  The  adjutant  will  notify  him."  And  Captain  Chester  turned 
to  his  desk  again  as  the  new  officer  of  the  day,  guard-book  in  hand, 
entered  to  make  his  report. 

"  The  usual  orders,  captain,"  said  Chester,  as  he  took  the  book  from 
his  hand  and  looked  over  the  list  of  prisoners.  Then,  in  bold  and 
rapid  strokes,  he  wrote  across  the  page  the  customary  certificate  of  the 
old  officer  of  the  day,  winding  up  with  this  remark  : 

"  He  also  inspected  guard  and  visited  sentries  between  3  and  3.35 
A.M.  The  firing  at  3.30  A.M.  was  by  his  order." 

Meantime,  those  officers  who  had  entered  and  who  had  no  immediate 
duty  to  perform  were  standing  or  seated  around  the  room,  but  all  ob- 
serving profound  silence.  For  a  moment  or  two  no  sound  was  heard 
but  the  scratching  of  the  captain's  pen.  Then,  with  some  embarrass- 
ment and  hesitancy,  he  laid  it  down  and  glanced  around  him. 

"  Has  any  one  here  anything  to  ask, — any  business  to  transact  ?" 

Two  or  three  mentioned  some  routine  matters  that  required  the 


180  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

action  of  the  post-commander,  but  did  so  reluctantly,  as  though  they 
preferred  to  await  the  orders  of  the  colonel  himself.  Captain  Wiltim, 
indeed,  spoke  his  sentiments  : 

"  I  wanted  to  see  Colonel  Maynard  about  getting  two  men  of  uiy 
company  relieved  from  extra  duty ;  but,  as  he  isn't  here,  I  fancy  I  had 
better  wait." 

"  Not  at  all.  Who  are  your  men  ? — Have  it  done  at  once,  Mr. 
Adjutant,  and  supply  their  places  from  my  company,  if  need  be.  Now 
is  there  anything  else  ?" 

The  group  was  apparently  "  nonplussed,"  as  the  adjutant  afterwards 
put  it,  by  such  unlooked-for  complaisance  on  the  part  of  the  usually 
crotchety  senior  captain.  Still,  no  one  offered  to  lead  the  others  and 
leave  the  room.  After  a  moment's  nervous  rapping  with  his  knuckles 
on  th«  desk,  Captain  Chester  again  abruptly  spoke : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  sorry  to  incommode  you,  but,  if  there  be  nothing 
more  that  you  desire  to  see  me  about,  I  shall  go  on  with  some  other 
matters,  which — pardon  me— do  not  require  your  presence." 

At  this  very  broad  hint  the  party  slowly  found  their  legs,  and  with 
much  wonderment  and  not  a  few  resentful  glances  at  their  temporary 
commander  the  officers  sauntered  to  the  door-way.  There,  however, 
several  stopped  again,  still  reluctant  to  leave  in  the  face  of  so  pervading 
a  mystery,  for  Wilton  turned. 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  Colonel  Maynard  has  left  the  post  to  be 
gone  any  length  of  time  ?"  he  asked. 

*'  He  has  not  yet  gone.  I  do  not  know  how  long  he  will  be  gone 
or  how  soon  he  will  start.  For  pressing  personal  reasons  he  has  turned 
over  the  command  to  me ;  and,  if  he  decide  to  remain  away,  of  course 
some  field-officer  will  be  ordered  to  come  to  head-quarters.  For  a  day 
or  two  you  will  have  to  worry  along  with  me ;  but  I  shan't  worry  you 
more  than  I  can  help.  I've  got  mystery  and  mischief  enough  here  to 
keep  me  busy,  God  knows.  Just  ask  Sloat  to  come  back  here  to  me, 
will  you?  And — Wilton,  I  did  not  mean  to  be  abrupt  with  you. 
I'm  all  upset  to-day.  Mr.  Adjutant,  notify  Mr.  Jerrold  at  once  that 
he  must  not  leave  the  post  until  I  have  seen  him.  It  is  the  colonel's 
last  order.  Tell  him  so." 

II. 

The  night  before  had  been  unusually  dark.  A  thick  veil  of  clouds 
overspread  the  heavens  and  hid  the  stars.  Moon  there  was  none,  for 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  181 

the  faint  silver  crescent  that  gleamed  for  a  moment  through  the  swift- 
sailing  wisps  of  vapor  had  dropped  beneath  the  horizon  soon  after 
tattoo,  and  the  mournful  strains  of  "  taps,"  borne  on  the  rising  wind, 
seemed  to  signal  "  extinguish  lights"  to  the  entire  firmament  as  well  as 
to  Fort  Sibley.  There  was  a  dance  of  some  kind  at  the  quarters  of 
one  of  the  staif-officers  living  far  up  the  row  on  the  southern  terrace. 
Chester  heard  the  laughter  and  chat  as  the  young  officers  and  their 
convoy  of  matrons  and  maids  came  tripping  homeward  after  midnight. 
He  was  a  crusty  old  bachelor,  to  use  his  own  description,  and  rarely 
ventured  into  these  scenes  of  social  gayety,  and,  besides,  he  was  officer 
of  the  day,  and  it  was  a  theory  he  was  fond  of  expounding  to  juniors 
that  when  on  guard  no  soldier  should  permit  himself  to  be  drawn  from 
the  scene  of  his  duties.  With  his  books  and  his  pipe  Chester  whiled 
away  the  lonely  hours  of  the  early  night,  and  wondered  if  the  wind 
would  blow  up  a  rain  or  disperse  the  clouds  entirely.  Towards  one 
o'clock  a  light,  bounding  footstep  approached  his  door,  and  the  portal 
flew  open  as  a  trim-built  young  fellow  with  laughing  eyes  and  an  air 
of  exuberant  health  and  spirits  came  briskly  in.  It  was  Rollins,  the 
junior  second  lieutenant  of  the  regiment,  and  Chester's  own  and  only 
pet, — so  said  the  envious  others.  He  was  barely  a  year  cut  of  leading- 
strings  at  the  Point,  and  as  full  of  hope  and  pluck  and  mischief  as  a 
colt.  Moreover,  he  was  frank  and  teachable,  said  Chester,  and  didn't 
come  to  him  with  the  idea  that  he  had  nothing  to  learn  and  less  to  do. 
The  boy  won  upon  his  gruff  captain  from  the  very  start,  and,  to  the 
incredulous  delight  of  the  whole  regiment,  within  six  months  the  old 
cynic  had  taken  him  into  his  heart  and  home,  and  Mr.  Rollins  occupied 
a  pleasant  room  under  Chester's  roof-tree,  and  was  the  sole  accredited 
sharer  of  the  captain's  mess.  To  a  youngster  just  entering  service, 
whose  ambition  it  was  to  stick  to  business  and  make  a  record  for  zeal 
and  efficiency,  these  were  manifest  advantages.  There  were  men  in  the 
regiment  to  whom  such  close  communion  with  a  watchful  senior  would 
have  been  most  embarrassing,  and  Mr.  Rollins's  predecessor  as  second 
lieutenant  of  Chester's  company  was  one  of  these.  Mr.  Jerrold  was  a 
happy  man  when  promotion  took  him  from  under  the  wing  of  "  Crusty 
Jake"  and  landed  him  in  Company  B.  More  than  that,  it  came  just  at 
a  time  when,  after  four  years  of  loneliness  and  isolation  at  an  up-river 
stockade,  his  new  company  and  his  old  one,  together  with  four  others 
from  the  regiment,  were  ordered  to  join  head-quarters  and  the  band  at 
the  most  delightful  station  in  the  Northwest.  Here  Mr.  Rollins  had 

16 


182  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

reported  for  duty  during  the  previous  autumn,  and  here  they  were  with 
troops  of  other  arms  of  the  service,  enjoying  the  close  proximity  of  all 
the  good  things  of  civilization. 

Chester  looked  up  with  a  quizzical  smile  as  his  "  plebe"  came  in : 

"Well,  sir,  how  many  dances  had  you  with  'Sweet  Alice,  Ben 
Bolt'  ?  Not  many,  I  fancy,  with  Mr.  Jerrold  monopolizing  everything, 
as  usual.  By  gad !  some  good  fellow  could  make  a  colossal  fortune 
in  buying  that  young  man  at  my  valuation  and  selling  him  at  his 
own." 

"  Oh,  come,  now,  captain,"  laughed  Rollins,  "  Jerrold's  no  such 
slouch  as  you  make  him  out.  He's  lazy,  and  he  likes  to  spoon,  and 
he  puts  up  with  a  good  deal  of  petting  from  the  girls, — who  wouldn't, 
if  he  could  get  it  ? — but  he  is  jolly  and  big-hearted,  and  don't  put  on 
any  airs, — with  us,  at  least, — and  the  mess  like  him  first-rate.  'Tain't 
his  fault  that  he's  handsome  and  a  regular  lady-killer.  You  must 
admit  that  he  had  a  pretty  tough  four  years  of  it  up  there  at  that  cussed 
old  Indian  graveyard,  and  it's  only  natural  he  should  enjoy  getting 
here,  where  there  are  theatres  and  concerts  and  operas  and  dances  ana 
dinners " 

"  Yes,  dances  and  dinners  and  daughters, — all  delightful,  I  know, 
but  no  excuse  for  a  man's  neglecting  his  manifest  duty,  as  he  is  doing 
and  has  been  ever  since  we  got  here.  Any  other  time  the  colonel  would 
have  straightened  him  out ;  but  no  use  trying  it  now,  when  both  women 
in  his  household  are  as  big  fools  about  the  man  as  anybody  in  town, — 
bigger,  unless  I'm  a  born  idiot."  And  Chester  rose  excitedly. 

"  I  suppose  he  had  Miss  Ren  wick  pretty  much  to  himself  to-night  ?" 
he  presently  demanded,  looking  angrily  and  searchingly  at  his  junior, 
as  though  half  expecting  him  to  dodge  the  question. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Why  not  ?  It's  pretty  evident  she  would  rather  dance 
and  be  with  him  than  with  any  one  else  :  so  what  can  a  fellow  do  ?  Or 
course  we  ask  her  to  dance,  and  all  that,  and  I  think  he  wants  us  to ; 
but  I  cannot  help  feeling  rather  a  bore  to  her,  even  if  she  is  oulv 
eighteen,  and  there  are  plenty  of  pleasant  girls  in  the  garrison  who 
don't  get  any  too  much  attention,  now  we're  so  near  a  big  city,  and  I 
like  to  be  with  them." 

"  Yes,  and  it's  the  right  thing  for  you  to  do,  youngster.  That's  one 
trait  I  despise  in  Jerrold.  When  we  were  up  there  at  the  stockade  two 
winters  ago,  and  Captain  Gray's  little  girl  was  there,  he  hung  around 
her  from  morning  till  night,  and  the  poor  little  thing  fairly  beamed  and 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  183 

blossomed  with  delight.  Look  at  her  now,  man  !  He  don't  go  near 
her.  He  hasn't  had  the  decency  to  take  her  a  walk,  a  drive,  or  any- 
thing, since  we  got  here.  He  began,  from  the  moment  we  came,  with 
that  gang  in  town.  He  was  simply  devoted  to  Miss  Beaubien  until 
Alice  Renwick  came ;  then  he  dropped  her  like  a  hot  brick.  By  the 
Eternal,  Rollins,  he  hasn't  gotten  off  with  that  old  love  yet,  you  mark 
my  words.  There's  Indian  blood  in  her  veins,  and  a  look  in  her  eye 
that  makes  me  wriggle,  sometimes.  I  watched  her  last  night  at  parade 
when  she  drove  out  here  with  that  copper-faced  old  squaw,  her  mother. 
For  all  her  French  and  Italian  education  and  her  years  in  New  York 
and  Paris,  that  girl's  got  a  wild  streak  in  her  somewhere.  She  sat  there 
watching  him  as  the  officers  marched  to  the  front,  and  then  her,  as  he 
went  up  and  joined  Miss  Renwick  ;  and  there  was  a  gleam  of  her  white 
teeth  and  a  flash  in  her  black  eyes  that  made  me  think  of  the  leap  of  a 
knife  from  the  sheath.  Not  but  what  'twould  serve  him  right  if  she 
did  play  him  some  devil's  trick.  It's  his  own  doing.  Were  any  people 
out  from  town  ?"  he  suddenly  asked. 

"  Yes,  half  a  dozen  or  so,"  answered  Mr.  Rollins,  who  was  pulling 
off  his  boots  and  inserting  his  feet  into  easy  slippers,  while  old 
"  Crusty"  tramped  excitedly  up  and  down  the  floor.  "  Most  of  them 
stayed  out  here,  I  think.  Only  one  team  went  back  across  the  bridge." 

"Whose  was  that?" 

"  The  Buttons',  I  believe.  Young  Cub  Sutton  was  out  with  his 
Hister  and  another  girl." 

"  There's  another  damned  fool !"  growled  Chester.  "  That  boy  has 
ten  thousand  a  year  of  his  own,  a  beautiful  home  that  will  be  his,  a 
doting  mother  and  sister,  and  everything  wealth  can  buy,  and  yet,  by 
gad !  he's  unhappy  because  he  can't  be  a  poor  devil  of  a  lieutenant, 
with  nothing  but  drills,  debts,  and  rifle-practice  to  enliven  him.  That's 
what  brings  him  out  here  all  the  time.  He'd  swap  places  with  you  ir. 
a  minute.  Isn't  he  very  thick  with  Jerrold  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  rather.     Jerrold  entertains  him  a  good  deal." 

"Which  is  returned  with  compound  interest,  I'll  bet  you.  Mr. 
Jerrold  simply  makes  a  convenience  of  him.  He  won't  make  love  to 
his  sister,  because  the  poor,  rich,  unsophisticated  girl  is  as  ugly  as  she 
is  ubiquitous.  His  majesty  is  fastidious,  you  see,  and  seeks  only  the 
caress  of  beauty,  and  while  he  lives  there  at  the  Snttons'  when  he  goes 
to  town,  and  dines  and  sleeps  and  smokes  and  wines  there,  and  uses 
their  box  at  the  opera-house,  and  is  courted  and  flattered  by  the  old 


184  FROM  THE  HANKS. 

lady  because  dear  Cubby  worships  the  ground  he  walks  on  and  poor 
Fanny  Sutton  thinks  him  adorable,  he  turns  his  back  on  the  girl  at 
every  dance  because  she  can't  dance,  and  leaves  her  to  you  fellows  who 
have  a  conscience  and  some  idea  of  decency.  He  gives  all  his  devotions 
to  Nina  Beaubien,  who  dances  like  a  coryphee,  and  drops  her  when  Alice 
Renwick  comes  with  her  glowing  Spanish  beauty.  Oh,  damn  it,  I'm 
an  old  fool  to  get  worked  up  over  it  as  I  do,  but  you  young  fellows 
don't  see  what  I  see.  You  haven't  seen  what  I've  seen ;  and  pray 
God  you  never  may !  That's  where  the  shoe  pinches,  Rollins.  It  is 
what  he  reminds  me  of— not  so  much  what  he  is,  I  suppose — that  I  get 
rabid  about.  He  is  for  all  the  world  like  a  man  we  had  in  the  old 
regiment  when  you  were  in  swaddling-clothes ;  and  I  never  look  at 
Mamie  Gray's  sad,  white  face  that  it  doesn't  bring  back  a  girl  I  knew 
just  then  whose  heart  was  broken  by  just  such  a  shallow,  selfish,  adora- 
ble scoun No,  I  won't  use  that  word  in  speaking  of  Jerrold ;  but 

it's  what  I  fear.  Rollins,  you  call  him  generous.  Well,  so  he  is, — 
lavish,  if  you  like,  with  his  money  and  his  hospitality  here  in  the  post. 
Money  comes  easily  to  him,  and  goes ;  but  you  boys  misuse  the  term. 
/  call  him  selfish  to  the  core,  because  he  can  deny  himself  no  luxury, 
no  pleasure,  though  it  may  wring  a  woman's  life — or,  more  than  that, 
her  honor — to  give  it  him."  The  captain  was  tramping  up  and  down 
the  room  now,  as  was  his  wont  when  excited ;  his  face  was  flushed, 
and  his  hand  clinched.  He  turned  suddenly  and  faced  the  younger 
officer,  who  sat  gazing  uncomfortably  at  the  rug  in  front  of  the  fire- 
place: 

"  Rollins,  some  day  I  may  tell  you  a  story  that  I've  kept  to  myself 
all  these  years.  You  won't  wonder  at  my  feeling  as  I  do  about  these 
goings-on  of  your  friend  Jerrold  when  you  hear  it  all,  but  it  was  just 
such  a  man  as  he  who  ruined  one  woman,  broke  the  heart  of  another, 
and  took  the  sunshine  out  of  the  life  of  two  men  from  that  day  to  this. 
One  of  them  was  your  colonel,  the  other  your  captain.  Now  go  to  bed. 
I'm  going  out."  And,  throwing  down  his  pipe,  regardless  of  the 
scattering  sparks  and  ashes,  Captain  Chester  strode  into  the  hall-way, 
picked  up  the  first  forage-cap  he  laid  hands  on,  and  banged  himself  out 
of  the  front  door. 

Mr.  Rollins  remained  for  some  moments  in  the  same  attitude,  still 
gazing  abstractedly  at  the  rug,  and  listening  to  the  nervous  tramp  01 
his  senior  officer  on  the  piazza  without.  Then  he  slowly  and  thought- 
fully went  to  his  room,  where  his  perturbed  spirit  was  soon  soothed  in 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  185 

sleep.     His  conscience  being  clear  and  his  health  perfect,  there  were  no 
deep  cares  to  keep  him  tossing  on  a  restless  pillow. 

To  Chester,  however,  sleep  was  impossible  :  he  tramped  the  piazza 
a  full  hour  before  he  felt  placid  enough  to  go  and  inspect  his  guard. 
The  sentries  were  calling  three  o'clock,  and  the  wind  had  died  away, 
as  he  started  on  his  round.  Dark  as  was  the  night,  he  carried  no 
lantern.  The  main  garrison  was  well  lighted  by  lamps,  and  the  road 
circling  the  old  fort  was  broad,  smooth,  and  bordered  by  a  stone  coping 
wall  where  it  skirted  the  precipitous  descent  into  the  river-bottom.  As 
he  passed  down  the  plank  walk  west  of  the  quadrangle  wherein  lay  the 
old  barracks  and  the  stone  quarters  of  the  commanding  officer  and  the 
low  one-storied  row  of  bachelor  dens,  he  could  not  help  noting  the 
silence  and  peace  of  the  night.  Not  a  light  was  visible  at  any  window 
as  he  strode  down  the  line.  The  challenge  of  the  sentry  at  the  old 
stone  tower  sounded  unnecessarily  sharp  and  loud,  and  his  response  of 
"Officer  of  the  day"  was  lower  than  usual,  as  though  rebuking  the 
unseemly  outcry.  The  guard  came  scrambling  out  and  formed  hur- 
riedly to  receive  him,  but  the  captain's  inspection  was  of  the  briefest 
kind.  Barely  glancing  along  the  prison  corridor  to  see  that  the  bars 
were  in  place,  he  turned  back  into  the  night,  and  made  for  the  line  of 
posts  along  the  river-bank.  The  sentry  at  the  high  bridge  across  the 
gorge,  and  the  next  one,  well  around  to  the  southeast  flank,  were  suc- 
cessively visited  and  briefly  questioned  as  to  their  instructions,  and  then 
the  captain  plodded  sturdily  on  until  he  came  to  the  sharp  bend  around 
the  outermost  angle  of  the  fort  and  found  himself  passing  behind  the 
quarters  of  the  commanding  officer,  a  substantial  two-storied  stone  house 
with  mansard  roof  and  dormer-windows.  The  road  in  the  rear  was 
some  ten  feet  below  the  level  of  the  parade  inside  the  quadrangle,  and 
consequently,  as  the  house  faced  the  parade,  what  was  the  ground-floor 
from  that  front  became  the  second  story  at  the  rear.  The  kitchen,  store- 
room, and  servants'  rooms  were  on  this  lower  stage,  and  opened  upon 
the  road ;  an  outer  stairway  ran  up  to  the  centre  door  at  the  lack,  but 
at  the  east  and  west  flanks  of  the  house  the  stone  walls  stood  without 
port  or  window  except  those  above  the  eaves, — the  dormers.  Light  and 
air  in  abundance  streamed  through  the  broad  Venetian  windows  north 
and  south  when  light  and  air  were  needed.  This  night,  as  usual,  all 
was  tightly  closed  below,  all  darkness  aloft  as  he  glanced  up  at  the 
dormers  high  above  his  head.  As  he  did  so,  his  foot  struck  a  sudden 
and  sturdy  obstacle;  he  stumbled  and  pitched  heavily  forward,  and 

16* 


186  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

found  himself  sprawling  at  full  length  upon  a  ladder  lying  on  the 
ground  almost  in  the  middle  of  the  roadway. 

"  Damn  those  painters  !"  he  growled  between  his  set  teeth.  "  They 
leave  their  infernal  man-traps  around  in  the  very  hope  of  catching  me, 
I  believe.  Now,  who  but  a  painter  would  have  left  a  ladder  in  such  a 
place  as  this  ?" 

Rising  ruefully  and  rubbing  a  bruised  knee  with  his  hand,  he 
limped  painfully  ahead  a  few  steps,  until  he  came  to  the  side-wall  of 
the  colonel's  house.  Here  a  plank  walk  passed  from  the  roadway  along 
the  western  wall  until  almost  on  a  line  with  the  front  piazza,  where  by 
a  flight  of  steps  it  was  carried  up  to  the  level  of  the  parade.  Here  he 
paused  a  moment  to  dust  off  his  clothes  and  rearrange  his  belt  and 
sword.  He  stood  leaning  against  the  wall  and  facing  the  gray  stone 
gable  end  of  the  row  of  old-fashioned  quarters  that  bounded  the  parade 
upon  the  southwest.  All  was  still  darkness  and  silence. 

"  Confound  this  sword !"  he  muttered  again  :  "  the  thing  made  rat- 
tle and  racket  enough  to  wake  the  dead.  Wonder  if  I  disturbed  any- 
body at  the  colonel's." 

As  though  in  answer  to  his  suggestion,  there  suddenly  appeared, 
high  on  the  blank  wall  before  him,  the  reflection  of  a  faint  light.  Had 
a  little  night-lamp  been  turned  on  in  the  front  room  of  the  upper  story? 
The  gleam  came  from  the  north  window  on  the  side :  he  saw  plainly 
the  shadow  of  the  pretty  lace  curtains,  looped  loosely  back.  Then  the 
shade  was  gently  raised,  and  there  was  for  an  instant  the  silhouette  of 
a  slender  hand  and  wrist,  the  shadow  of  a  lace-bordered  sleeve.  Then 
the  light  receded,  as  though  -carried  back  across  the  room,  waned,  as 
though  slowly  extinguished,  and  the  last  shadows  showed  the  curtains 
still  looped  back,  the  rolling  shade  still  raised. 

"  I  thought  so,"  he  growled.  "  One  tumble  like  that  is  enough 
to  wake  the  Seven  Sleepers,  let  alone  a  love-sick  girl  who  is  prob- 
ably dreaming  over  Jerrold's  parting  words.  She  is  spirited  and  blue- 
blooded  enough  to  have  more  sense,  too,  that  same  superb  brunette. 
Ah,  Miss  Alice,  I  wonder  if  you  think  that  fellow's  love  worth  having. 
It  is  two  hours  since  he  left  you, — more  than  that, — and  here  you  are 
awake  yet, — cannot  sleep, — want  more  air,  and  have  to  come  and  raise 
your  shade.  No  such  warm  night,  either."  These  were  his  reflections 
as  he  picked  up  his  offending  sword  and,  more  slowly  and  cautiously 
now,  groped  his  way  along  the  western  terrace.  He  passed  the  row 
of  bachelor  quarters,  and  was  well  out  beyond  the  limits  of  the  fort 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  187 

before  he  came  upon  the  next  sentry, — "Number  Five," — and  recog- 
nized, in  the  stern  "Who  comes  there?"  and  the  sharp  rattle  of  the 
bayonet  as  it  dropped  to  the  charge,  the  well-known  challenge  of 
Private  Leary,  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  reliable  soldiers  in  the  regi- 
ment. 

"  All  right  on  your  post,  Leary  ?"  he  asked,  after  having  given  the 
countersign. 

"  All  right,  I  ihink,  sor ;  though  if  the  captain  had  asked  me  that 
half  an  hour  ago  I'd  not  have  said  so.  It  was  so  dark  I  couldn't  see 
rae  hand  afore  me  face,  sor ;  but  about  half-past  two  I  was  walkin' 
very  slow  down  back  of  the  quarters,  whin  just  close  by  Loot'nant 
Jerrold's  back  gate  I  seen  somethin'  movin',  and  as  I  come  softly  along 
it  riz  up,  an'  sure  I  thought  'twas  the  loot'nant  himself,  whin  he 
seemed  to  catch  sight  o'  me  or  hear  me,  and  he  backed  inside  the  gate 
an'  shut  it.  I  was  sure  'twas  he,  he  was  so  tall  and  slim  like,  an'  so  I 
niver  said  a  word  until  I  got  to  thinkin'  over  it,  and  then  I  couldn't 
spake.  Sure  if  it  had  been  the  loot'nant  he  wouldn't  have  backed 
away  from  a  sintry ;  he'd  'a'  come  out  bold  and  given  the  countersign ; 
but  I  didn't  think  o'  that.  It  looked  like  him  in  the  dark,  an'  'twas 
his  quarters,  an'  I  thought  it  was  him,  until  I  thought  ag'in,  and  then, 
Ror,  I  wint  back  and  searched  the  yard ;  but  there  was  no  one  there." 

"  Hm  !   Odd  thing  that,  Leary  !  Why  didn't  you  challenge  at  first  V 

"Sure,  sor,  he  lept  inside  the  fince  quick  as  iver  we  set  eyes  on 
each  other.  He  was  bendin'  down,  and  I  thought  it  was  one  of  the 
hound  pups  when  I  first  sighted  him." 

"  And  he  hasn't  been  around  since  ?" 

"  No,  sor,  nor  nobody,  till  the  officer  of  the  day  came  along." 

Chester  walked  away  puzzled.  Sibley  was  a  most  quiet  and  orderly 
garrison.  Night  prowlers  had  never  been  heard  from,  especially  over 
here  at  the  south  and  southwest  fronts.  The  enlisted  men  going  to  or 
from  town  passed  across  the  big,  high  bridge  or  went  at  onoe  to  their 
own  quarters  on  the  east  and  north.  This  southwestern  terrace  behind 
the  bachelors'  row  was  the  most  secluded  spot  on  the  whole  post, — so 
much  so  that  when  a  fire  broke  out  there  among  the  fuel-heaps  one  sharp 
winter's  night  a  year  agone  it  had  wellnigh  enveloped  the  whole  line 
before  its  existence  was  discovered.  Indeed,  not  until  after  this  occur- 
rence was  a  sentry  posted  on  that  front  at  all ;  and,  once  ordered  there, 
he  had  so  little  to  do  and  was  so  comparatively  sure  to  be  undisturbed 
that  the  old  soldiers  eagerly  sought  the  post  in  preference  to  any  other, 


188  FROM  THE  EANKS. 

and  were  given  it  as  a  peace  privilege.  For  months,  relief  after  relief 
tramped  around  the  fort  and  found  the  terrace  post  as  humdrum  and 
silent  as  an  empty  church ;  but  this  night  "  Number  Five"  leaped  sud- 
denly into  notoriety. 

Instead  of  going  home,  Chester  kept  on  across  the  plateau  and  took 
a  long  walk  on  the  northern  side  of  the  reservation,  where  the  quarter- 
master's stables  and  corrals  were  placed.  He  was  affected  by  a  strange 
T  unrest.  His  talk  with  Rollins  had  roused  the  memories  of  years  long 
gone  by,— of  days  when  he,  too,  was  young  and  full  of  hope  and  faith, 
ay,  full  of  love, — all  lavished  on  one  fair  girl  who  knew  it  well,  but 
gently,  almost  entreatingly,  repelled  him.  Her  heart  was  wrapped 
up  in  another,  the  Adonis  of  his  day  in  the  gay  old  seaboard  garrison. 
She  was  a  soldier's  child,  barrack-born,  simply  taught,  knowing  little 
of  the  vice  and  temptations,  the  follies  and  the  frauds,  of  the  whirling 
life  of  civilization.  A  good  and  gentle  mother  had  reared  her  and  been 
called  hence.  Her  father,  an  officer  whose  sabre-arm  was  left  at  Molino 
del  Key,  and  whose  heart  was  crushed  when  the  loving  wife  was  taken 
from  him,  turned  to  the  child  who  so  resembled  her,  and  centred  there 
all  his  remaining  love  and  life.  He  welcomed  Chester  to  his  home,  and 
tacitly  'favored  his  suit,  but  in  his  blindness  never  saw  how  a  few 
moonlit  strolls  on  the  old  moss-grown  parapet,  a  few  evening  dances  in 
the  casemates  with  handsome,  wooing,  winning  "Will  Forrester,  had 
done  their  work.  She  gave  him  all  the  wild,  enthusiastic,  worshipping 
love  of  her  girlish  heart  just  about  the  time  Captain  and  Mrs.  Maynard 
came  back  from  leave,  and  then  he  grew  cold  and  negligent  there,  but 
lived  at  Maynard's  fireside ;  and  one  day  there  came  a  sensation, — a 
tragedy, — and  Mrs.  Maynard  went  away,  and  died  abroad,  and  a 
shocked  and  broken-hearted  girl  hid  her  face  from  all  and  pined  at 
home,  and  Mr.  Forrester's  resignation  was  sent  from — no  one  knew 
just  where,  and  no  one  would  have  cared  to  know,  except  Maynard.  He 
would  have  followed  him,  pistol  in  hand,  but  Forrester  gave  him  no 
chance.  Years  afterwards  Chester  again  sought  her  and  offered  her  his 
love  and  his  name.  It  was  useless,  she  told  him,  sadly.  She  lived 
only  for  her  father  now,  and  would  never  leave  him  till  he  died,  and 
then — she  prayed  she  might  go  too.  Memories  like  this  will  come  up 
at  such  times  in  these  same  "  still  watches  of  the  night."  Chester  was 
in  a  moody  frame  of  mind  when  about  half  an  hour  later  he  came  back 
past  the  guard-house.  The  sergeant  was  standing  near  the  lighted  en- 
trance, and  the  captain  called  him : 


FROM  THE  RANKS,  189 

"  There's  a  ladder  lying  back  of  the  colonel's  quarters  on  the  road- 
way. Some  of  those  painters  left  it,  I  suppose.  It's  a  wonder  some 
of  the  reliefs  have  not  broken  their  necks  over  it  going  around  to-night. 
Let  the  next  one  pick  it  up  and  move  it  out  of  the  way.  Hasn't  it 
been  reported?" 

"  Not  to  me,  sir.  Corporal  Schreiber  has  command  of  this  relief, 
and  he  has  said  nothing  about  it.  Here  he  is,  sir." 

"Didn't  you  see  it  or  stumble  over  it  when  posting  your  relief, 
Corporal  ?"  asked  Chester. 

"  No  indeed,  sir.  I — I  think  the  captain  must  have  been  mistaken 
in  thinking  it  a  ladder.  We  would  surely  have  struck  it  if  it  had  been." 

"No  mistake  at  all,  corporal.  I  lifted  it.  It  is  a  long,  heavy 
ladder, — over  twenty  feet,  I  should  say." 

"There  is  such  a  ladder  back  there,  captain,"  said  the  sergeant, 
"but  it  always  hangs  on  the  fence  just  behind  the  young  officers' 
quarters, — Bachelors'  Row,  sir,  I  mean." 

"  And  that  ladder  was  there  an  hour  ago  when  I  went  my  rounds," 
said  the  corporal,  earnestly.  "  I  had  my  hurricane-lamp,  sir,  and  saw 
it  on  the  fence  plainly.  And  there  was  nothing  behind  the  colonel's  at 
that  hour." 

Chester  turned  away,  thoughtful  and  silent.  Without  a  word  he 
walked  straight  into  the  quadrangle,  past  the  low  line  of  stone  build- 
ings, the  offices  of  the  adjutant  and  quartermaster,  the  home  of  the 
sergeant-major,  the  club-  and  billiard-room,  past  the  long,  piazza-shaded 
row  of  bachelor  quarters,  and  came  upon  the  plank  walk  at  the  corner 
of  the  colonel's  fence.  Ten  more  steps,  and  he  stood  stock-still  at  the 
head  of  the  flight  of  wooden  stairs. 

There,  dimly  visible  against  the  southern  sky,  its  base  on  the  plank 
walk  below  him,  its  top  resting  upon  the  eaves  midway  between  the 
dormer-window  and  the  roof  of  the  piazza,  so  that  one  could  step  easily 
from  it  into  the  one  or  on  to  the  other,  was  the  very  ladder  that  half  an 
hour  before  was  lying  on  the  ground  behind  the  house. 

His  heart  stood  still.  He  seemed  powerless  to  move, — even  to 
think.  Then  a  slight  noise  roused  him,  and  with  every  nerve  tingling 
he  crouched  ready  for  a  spring.  With  quick,  agile  movements,  noise- 
less as  a  cat,  sinuous  and  stealthy  as  a  serpent,  the  dark  figure  of  a  man 
issued  from  Alice  Renwick's  chamber  window  and  came  gliding  down. 

One  second  more,  and,  almost  as  noiselessly,  he  reached  the  ground, 
then  quickly  raised  and  turned  the  ladder,  stepped  with  it  to  the  edge 


190  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

of  the  roadway,  and  peered  around  the  angle  as  though  to  see  that  no 
sentry  was  in  sight,  then  vanished  with  his  burden  around  the  corner. 
Another  second,  and  down  the  steps  went  Chester,  three  at  a  bound,  tip- 
toeing it  in  pursuit.  Ten  seconds  brought  him  close  to  the  culprit, — a 
tall,  slender  shadow. 

"You  villain!     Halt!" 

Down  went  the  ladder  on  the  dusty  road.  The  hand  that  Chester 
had  clinched  upon  the  broad  shoulder  was  hurled  aside.  There  was  a 
sudden  whirl,  a  lightning  blow  that  took  the  captain  full  in  the  chest 
and  staggered  him  back  upon  the  treacherous  and  entangling  rungs, 
and,  ere  he  could  recover  himself,  the  noiseless  stranger  had  fairly 
whizzed  into  space  and  vanished  in  the  darkness  up  the  road.  Chester 
sprang  in  pursuit.  He  heard  the  startled  challenge  of  the  sentry,  and 
then  Leary's  excited  "  Halt,  I  say !  Halt !"  and  then  he  shouted,— 

"  Fire  on  him,  Leary  !    Bring  him  down  !" 

Bang  went  the  ready  rifle  with  sharp,  sullen  roar  that  woke  the 
echoes  across  the  valley.  Bang  again,  as  Leary  sent  a  second  shot  after 
the  first.  Then,  as  the  captain  came  panting  to  the  spot,  they  followed 
up  the  road.  No  sign  of  the  runner.  Attracted  by  the  shots,  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  and  one  or  two  men,  lantern-bearing,  came  run- 
ning to  the  scene.  Excitedly  they  searched  up  and  down  the  road  in 
mingled  hope  and  dread  of  finding  the  body  of  the  marauder,  or  some 
clue  or  trace.  Nothing !  Whoever  he  was,  the  fleet  runner  had  van- 
ished and  made  good  his  escape. 

"Who  could  it  have  been,  sir?"  asked  the  sergeant  of  the  officer  of 
the  day.  "  Surely  none  of  the  men  ever  come  round  this  way." 

"  I  don't  know,  sergeant ;  I  don't  know.  Just  take  your  lamp  and 
see  if  there  is  anything  visible  down  there  among  the  rocks.  He  may 
have  been  hit  and  leaped  the  wall. — Do  you  think  you  hit  him, 
Leary?" 

"  I  can't  say,  sor.  He  came  by  me  like  a  flash.  I  had  just  a 
second's  look  at  him,  and Sure  I  niver  saw  such  runnin'." 

"  Could  you  see  his  face  ?"  asked  Chester,  in  a  low  tone,  as  the  other 
men  moved  away  to  search  the  rocks. 

"  Not  his  face,  sor.     'Twas  too  dark." 

"  Was  there— did  he  look  like  anybody  you  knew,  or  had  seen  ? — 
anybody  in  the  command  ?" 

"  Well,  sor,  not  among  the  men,  that  is.  There's  none  so  tall  and 
slim  both,  and  so  light.  Sure  he  must  'a'  worn  gums,  sor.  You 
«w>nldn't  hear  the  whisper  of  a  footfall." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  191 

"  But  whom  did  he  seem  to  resemble  ?" 

"  Well,  if  the  captain  will  forgive  me,  sor,  it's  unwillin'  I  am  to 
say  the  worrd,  but  there's  no  one  that  tall  and  light  and  slim  here,  sor, 
but  Loot'nant  Jerrold.  Sure  it  couldn't  be  him,  sor." 

"  Leary,  will  you  promise  me  something  on  your  word  as  a  man  ?" 

"I  will,  sor." 

"  Say  not  one  word  of  this  matter  to  any  one,  except  I  tell  you,  or 
you  have  to,  before  a  court." 

"  I  promise,  sor." 

"  And  I  believe  you.     Tell  the  sergeant  I  will  soon  be  back." 

With  that  he  turned  and  walked  down  the  road  until  once  more 
he  came  to  the  plank  crossing  and  the  passage-way  between  the  colonel's 
and  Bachelors'  Row.  Here  again  he  stopped  short,  and  waited  with 
bated  breath  and  scarcely-beating  heart.  The  faint  light  he  had  seen 
before  again  illumined  the  room  and  cast  its  gleam  upon  the  old  gray 
wall.  Even  as  he  gazed,  there  came  silently  to  the  window  a  tall, 
white-robed  form,  and  a  slender  white  hand  seized  and  lowered  the 
shade,  noiselessly.  Then,  as  before,  the  light  faded  away;  but — she 
was  awake. 

Waiting  one  moment  in  silence,  Captain  Chester  then  sprang  up  the 
wooden  steps  and  passed  under  the  piazza  which  ran  the  length  of  the 
bachelor  quarters.  Half-way  down  the  row  he  turned  sharply  to  his 
left,  opened  the  green-painted  door,  and  stood  in  a  little  dark  hall-way. 
Taking  his  match-box  from  his  pocket,  he  struck  a  light,  and  by  its 
glare  quickly  read  the  card  upon  the  first  door- way  to  his  right : 

"MR.  HOWARD  F.  JERROLD, 

" th  Infantry,  U.S.A." 

Opening  this  door,  he  bolted  straight  through  the  little  parlor  to 
the  bedroom  in  the  rear.  A  dim  light  was  burning  on  the  mantel. 
The  bed  was  unruffled,  untouched,  and  Mr.  Jerrold  was  not  there. 

Five  minutes  afterwards,  Captain  Chester,  all  alone,  had  laboriously 
and  cautiously  dragged  the  ladder  from  the  side  to  the  rear  of  the 
colonel's  house,  stretched  it  in  the  roadway  where  he  had  first  stumbled 
upon  it,  then  returned  to  the  searching-party  on  "  Number  Five." 

"  Send  two  men  to  put  that  ladder  back,"  he  ordered.  "  It  is  where 
T  told  you, — on  the  road  behind  the  colonel's." 


192  FROM  THE  RANKS. 


III. 

When  Mrs.  Maynard  came  to  Sibley  in  May  and  the  officers  with 
their  wives  were  making  their  welcoming  call,  she  had  with  motherly 
pride  and  pleasure  yielded  to  their  constant  importunities  and  shown  to 
one  party  after  another  an  album  of  photographs, — likenesses  of  her 
only  daughter.  There  were  little  cartes  de  visite  representing  her  in 
long  dresses  and  baby-caps ;  quaint  little  pictures  of  a  chubby-faced, 
chubby-legged  infant  a  few  months  older ;  charming  studies  of  a  little 
girl  with  great  black  eyes  and  delicate  features ;  then  of  a  tall,  slender 
slip  of  a  maiden,  decidedly  foreign-looking ;  then  of  a  sweet  and  pensive 
face,  with  great  dark  eyes,  long,  beautiful  curling  lashes,  and  very  heavy, 
low-arched  brows,  exquisitely  moulded  mouth  and  chin,  and  most  luxu- 
riant dark  hair ;  then  others,  still  older,  in  every  variety  of  dress, — even 
in  fancy  costume,  such  as  the  girl  had  worn  at  fair  or  masquerade. 
These  and  others  still  had  Mrs.  Maynard  shown  them,  with  repressed 
pride  and  pleasure  and  with  sweet  acknowledgment  of  their  enthusiastic 
praises.  Alice  still  tarried  in  the  East,  visiting  relatives  whom  she  had 
not  seen  since  her  father's  death  three  years  earlier,  and,  long  before  she 
came  to  join  her  mother  at  Sibley  and  to  enter  upon  the  life  she  so 
eagerly  looked  forward  to,  "  'way  out  in  the  West,  you  know,  with 
officers  and  soldiers  and  the  band,  and  buffalo  and  Indians  all  around 
you,"  there  was  not  an  officer  or  an  officer's  wife  \vlx>  had  not  delight- 
edly examined  that  album.  There  was  still  another  picture,  but  that 
one  had  been  shown  to  only  a  chosen  few  just  one  week  after  her  daugh- 
ter's arrival,  and  rather  an  absurd  scene  had  occurred,  in  which  that 
most  estimable  officer,  Lieutenant  Sloat,  had  figured  as  the  hero.  A 
more  simple-minded,  well-intentioned  fellow  than  Sloat  there  did  not 
live.  He  was  so  full  of  kindness  and  good  nature  and  readiness  to  do 
anything  for  anybody  that  it  never  seemed  to  occur  to  him  that  every- 
body on  earth  was  not  just  as  ready  to  be  equally  accommodating.  He 
was  a  perpetual  source  of  delight  to  the  colonel,  and  one  of  the  most  loyal 
and  devoted  of  subalterns,  despite  the  fact  that  his  locks  were  long  sil- 
vered with  the  frosts  of  years  and  that  he  had  fought  through  the  war 
of  the  rebellion  and  risen  to  the  rank  of  a  field-officer  in  Maynard's  old 
brigade.  The  most  temperate  of  men,  ordinarily,  the  colonel  had  one 
anniversary  he  loved  to  celebrate,  and  Sloat  was  his  stand-by  when  the 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  193 

3d  of  July  came  round,  just  as  he  had  been  at  his  shoulder  at  that 
supreme  moment  when,  heedless  of  the  fearful  sweep  of  shell  and  canis- 
ter through  their  shattered  ranks,  Pickett's  heroic  Virginians  breasted 
the  slope  of  Cemetery  Hill  and  surged  over  the  low  stone  wall  into 
Cushing's  guns.  Hard,  stubborn  fighting  had  Maynard's  men  to  do 
that  day,  and  for  serene  courage  and  determination  no  man  had  beaten 
Sloat.  Both  officers  had  bullet-hole  mementos  to  carry  from  that 
field  ;  both  had  won  their  brevets  for  conspicuous  gallantry,  and  Sloat 
was  a  happy  and  grateful  man  when,  years  afterwards,  his  old  com- 
mander secured  him  a  lieutenancy  in  the  regular  service.  He  was  the 
colonel's  henchman,  although  he  never  had  brains  enough  to  win  a  place 
on  the  regimental  staff,  and  when  Mrs.  Maynard  came  he  overwhelmed 
her  with  cumbrous  compliments  and  incessant  calls.  He  was,  to  his 
confident  belief,  her  chosen  and  accepted  knight  for  full  two  days  after 
her  arrival.  Then  Jerrold  came  back  from  a  brief  absence,  and,  as  in 
duty  bound,  went  to  pay  his  respects  to  his  colonel's  wife;  and  that 
night  there  had  been  a  singular  scene.  Mrs.  Maynard  had  stopped 
suddenly  in  her  laughing  chat  with  two  ladies,  had  started  from  her 
seat,  wildly  staring  at  the  tall,  slender  subaltern  who  entered  the  gate- 
way, and  then  fell  back  in  her  chair,  fairly  swooning  as  he  made  his  bow. 
Sloat  had  rushed  into  the  house  to  call  the  colonel  and  get  some 
water,  while  Mr.  Jerrold  stood  paralyzed  at  so  strange  a  reception  of 
his  first  call.  Mrs.  Maynard  revived  presently,  explained  that  it  was 
her  heart,  or  the  heat,  or  something,  and  the  ladies  on  their  way  home 
decided  that  it  was  possibly  the  heart,  it  was  certainly  not  the  heat,  it 
was  unquestionably  something,  and  that  something  was  Mr.  Jerrold, 
for  she  never  took  her  eyes  off  him  during  the  entire  evening,  and 
seemed  unable  to  shake  off  the  fascination.  Next  day  Jerrold  dined 
there,  and  from  that  time  on  he  was  a  daily  visitor.  Every  one  noted 
Mrs.  Maynard's  strong  interest  in  him,  but  no  one  could  account  for  it. 
She  was  old  enough  to  be  his  mother,  said  the  garrison ;  but  not  until 
Alice  Renwick  came  did  another  consideration  appear :  he  was  singu- 
larly like  the  daughter.  Both  were  tall,  lithe,  slender ;  both  had  dark, 
lustrous  eyes,  dark,  though  almost  perfect,  skin,  exquisitely-chiselled 
features,  and  slender,  shapely  hands  and  feet.  Alice  was  "  the  picture 
of  her  father,"  said  Mrs.  Maynard,  and  Mr.  Renwick  had  lived  all  his 
life  in  New  York ;  while  Mr.  Jerrold  was  of  an  old  Southern  family, 
and  his  mother  a  Cuban  beauty  who  was  the  toast  of  the  New  Orleans 
clubs  not  many  years  before  the  war. 
I  17 


194  FROM  THE  EANKS. 

Poor  Sloat !  He  did  not  fancy  Jerrold,  and  was  as  jealous  as  so 
unselfish  a  mortal  could  be  of  the  immediate  ascendency  the  young 
fellow  established  in  the  colonel's  household.  It  was  bad  enough  be- 
fore Alice  joined  them  ;  after  that  it  was  wellnigh  unbearable.  Then 
came  the  3d-of-July  dinner  and  the  colonel's  one  annual  jollification. 
No  man  ever  heard  of  Sloat's  being  intoxicated ;  he  rarely  drank  at 
all ;  but  this  evening  the  reminiscences  of  the  day,  the  generous  wine, 
the  unaccustomed  elegance  of  all  his  surroundings,  due  to  Mrs.  May- 
nard's  taste  and  supervision,  and  the  influence  of  Alice  Renwick's 
exquisite  beauty,  had  fairly  carried  him  away. 

They  were  chatting  in  the  parlor,  while  Miss  Renwick  was  enter- 
taining some  young-lady  friends  from  town  and  listening  to  the  band 
on  the  parade.  Sloat  was  expatiating  on  her  grace  and  beauty  and 
going  over  the  album  for  the  twentieth  time,  when  the  colonel,  with  a 
twinkling  eye,  remarked  to  Mrs.  Maynard, — 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  show  Major*  Sloat  the  '  Directoire'  picture, 
my  dear." 

"  Alice  would  never  forgive  me,"  said  madame,  laughing ;  "  though 
I  consider  it  the  most  beautiful  we  have  of  her." 

"  Oh,  where  is  it  ?"  "  Oh,  do  let  us  see  it,  Mrs.  Maynard  !"  was 
the  chorus  of  exclamations  from  the  few  ladies  present.  "  Oh,  I  insist 
on  seeing  it,  madame,"  was  Sloat's  characteristic  contribution  to  the 
clamor. 

"  I  want  you  to  understand  it,"  said  Mrs.  Maynard,  pleased,  but 
still  hesitating.  "  We  are  very  daft  about  Alice  at  home,  you  know, 
and  it's  quite  a  wonder  she  has  not  been  utterly  spoiled  by  her  aunts 
and  uncles ;  but  this  picture  was  a  specialty.  An  artist  friend  of  ours 
fairly  made  us  have  it  taken  in  the  wedding-dress  worn  by  her  grand- 
mother. You  know  the  Josephine  Beauharnais  '  Directoire'  style 
that  was  worn  in  seventeen  ninety-something.  Her  neck  and  shoul- 
ders are  lovely,  and  that  was  why  we  consented.  I  went,  and  so  did 
the  artist,  and  we  posed  her,  and  the  photograph  is  simply  perfect  of 
her  face,  and  neck  too,  but  when  Alice  saw  it  she  blushed  furiously 
and  forbade  my  having  them  finished.  Afterwards,  though,  she 
yielded  when  her  aunt  Kate  and  I  begged  so  hard  and  promised  that 

*  By  act  of  Congress,  officers  may  be  addressed  by  the  title  of  the  highest 
rank  held  by  them  in  the  volunteer  service  during  the  war.  The  colonel  always 
punctiliously  so  addressed  his  friend  and  subordinate,  although  in  tbe  army  his 
grade  was  simply  that  of  first  lieutenant. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  195 

none  should  be  given  away,  and  so  just  half  a  dozen  were  finished. 
Indeed,  the  dress  is  by  no  means  as  decollete  as  many  girls  wear  theirs 
at  dinner  now  in  New  York  ;  but  poor  Alice  was  scandalized  when  she 
saw  it  last  month,  and  she  never  would  let  me  put  one  in  the  album." 

"  Oh,  do  go  and  get  it,  Mrs.  Maynard  !"  pleaded  the  ladies.  "  Oh, 
please  let  me  see  it,  Mrs.  Maynard !"  added  Sloat ;  and  at  last  the 
mother-pride  prevailed.  Mrs.  Maynard  rustled  up-stairs,  and  presently 
returned  holding  in  her  hands  a  delicate  silver  frame  in  filigree-work, 
a  quaint  foreign  affair,  and  enclosed  therein  was  a  cabinet  photograph 
en  vignette, — the  head,  neck,  and  shoulders  of  a  beautiful  girl ;  and  the 
dainty,  diminutive,  what-there-was-of-it  waist  of  the  old-fashioned  gown, 
sashed  almost  immediately  under  the  exquisite  bust,  revealed  quite 
materially  the  cause  of  Alice  Renwick's  blushes.  But  a  more  beauti- 
ful portrait  was  never  photographed.  The  women  fairly  gasped  with 
delight  and  envy.  Sloat  could  not  restrain  his  impatience  to  get  it  in 
his  own  hands,  and  finally  he  grasped  it  and  then  eyed  it  in  rapture. 
It  was  two  minutes  before  he  spoke  a  word,  while  the  colonel  sat  laugh- 
ing at  his  worshipping  gaze.  Mrs.  Maynard  somewhat  uneasily  stretched 
forth  her  hand,  and  the  other  ladies  impatiently  strove  to  regain  posses- 
sion. 

"  Come,  Major  Sloat,  you've  surely  had  it  long  enough.  We  want 
it  again." 

"  Never !"  said  Sloat,  with  melodramatic  intensity.  "  Never !  This 
is  my  ideal  of  perfection, — of  divinity  in  woman.  I  will  bear  it  home 
with  me,  set  it  above  my  fireside,  and  adore  it  day  and  night." 

"  Nonsense,  Major  Sloat !"  said  Mrs.  Maynard,  laughing,  yet  far 
from  being  at  her  ease.  "  Come,  I  must  take  it  back.  Alice  may  be  in 
any  minute  now,  and  if  she  knew  I  had  betrayed  her  she  would  never 
forgive  me.  Come,  surrender !"  And  she  strove  to  take  it  from  him. 

But  Sloat  was  in  one  of  his  utterly  asinine  moods.  He  would  have 
been  perfectly  willing  to  give  any  sum  he  possessed  for  so  perfect  a 
picture  as  this.  He  never  dreamed  that  there  were  good  and  sufficient 
reasons  why  no  man  should  have  it.  He  so  loved  and  honored  his 
colonel  that  he  was  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  for  any  of  his  household. 
In  laying  claim  to  this  picture  he  honestly  believed  that  it  was  the 
highest  proof  he  could  give  of  his  admiration  and  devotion.  A  tame 
surrender  now  meant  that  his  protestations  were  empty  words.  "  There- 
fore," argued  Sloat,  "  I  must  stand  firm." 


196  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  I'd  die  first."  And  with  that  he  began  back- 
ing  to  the  door. 

Alarmed  now,  Mrs.  Maynard  sprang  after  him,  and  the  little  major 
leaped  upon  a  chair,  his  face  aglow,  jolly,  rubicund,  beaming  with  bliss 
and  triumph.  She  looked  up,  almost  wringing  her  hands,  and  turned 
half  appealingly  to  the  colonel,  who  was  laughing  heartily  on  the  sofa, 
never  dreaming  Sloat  could  be  in  earnest. 

"  Here,  I'll  give  you  back  the  frame :  I  don't  want  that,"  said 
Sloat,  and  began  fumbling  at  the  back  of  the  photograph.  This  was 
too  much  for  the  ladies.  They,  too,  rushed  to  the  rescue.  One  of 
them  sprang  to  and  shut  the  door,  the  other  seized  and  violently  shook 
the  back  of  his  chair,  and  Sloat  leaped  to  the  floor,  still  clinging  to  his 
prize,  and  laughing  as  though  he  had  never  had  so  much  entertainment 
in  his  life.  The  long  Venetian  windows  opened  upon  the  piazza,  and 
towards  the  nearest  one  he  retreated,  holding  aloft  the  precious  gage  and 
waving  off  the  attacking  party  with  the  other  hand.  He  was  within 
a  yard  of  the  blinds,  when  they  were  suddenly  thrown  open,  a  tall, 
blender  form  stepped  quickly  in,  one  hand  seized  the  uplifted  wrist,  the 
other  the  picture,  and  in  far  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  Mr.  Jerrold 
had  wrenched  it  away  and,  with  quiet  bow,  restored  it  to  its  rightful 
owner. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  now,  Jerrold,  that's  downright  unhandsome  of  you  1" 
gasped  Sloat.  "  I'd  have  been  on  my  way  home  with  it." 

"  Shut  up,  you  fool !"  was  the  sharp,  hissing  whisper.  "  Wait  till 
I  go  home,  if  you  want  to  talk  about  it."  And,  as  quickly  as  he  came, 
Mr.  Jerrold  slipped  out  again  upon  the  piazza. 

Of  course  the  story  was  told  with  varied  comment  all  over  the  post. 
Several  officers  were  injudicious  enough  to  chaff  the  old  subaltern  about 
it,  and — he  was  a  little  sore-headed  the  next  day,  anyway — the  usually 
placid  Sloat  grew  the  more  indignant  at  Jerrold.  He  decided  to  go 
and  upbraid  him ;  and,  as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  they  met  before  noon 
on  the  steps  of  the  club-room. 

"  I  want  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Jerrold,  that  from  an  officer  of  your 
age  to  one  of  mine  I  think  your  conduct  last  night  a  piece  of  imperti- 
nence." 

"  I  had  a  perfect  right  to  do  what  I  did,"  replied  Jerrold,  coolly. 
"  You  were  taking  a  most  unwarrantable  liberty  in  trying  to  carry  off 
that  picture." 


,tp 

«T 


How  did  you  know  what  it  was  ?    You  had  never  seen  it !" 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  197 

u  There's  where  you  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Sloat"  (and  Jerrold  purposely 
and  exasperatingly  refused  to  recognize  the  customary  brevet) :  "  I  had 
seen  it, — frequently." 

Two  officers  were  standing  by,  and  one  of  them  turned  sharply  and 
faced  Jerrold  as  he  spoke.  It  was  his  former  company  commander. 
Jerrold  noted  the  symptom,  and  flushed,  but  set  his  teeth  doggedly. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Jerrold !  Mrs.  Maynard  said  she  never  showed  that  to 
any  one,"  said  Sloat,  in  much  surprise.  "  You  heard  her,  did  you  not, 
Captain  Chester?" 

"  I  did,  certainly,"  was  the  reply. 

"  All  the  same,  I  repeat  what  I've  said,"  was  Jerrold's  sullen 

answer.     "I  have  seen  it  frequently,  and,  what's   more "     He 

suddenly  stopped. 

"  Well,  what's  more  ?"  said  Sloat,  suggestively. 

"  Never  mind.  I  don't  care  to  talk  of  the  matter,"  replied  Jerrold, 
and  started  to  walk  away. 

But  Sloat  was  angry,  nettled,  jealous.  He  had  meant  to  show  hia 
intense  loyalty  and  admiration  for  everything  that  was  his  colonel's, 
and  had  been  snubbed  and  called  a  fool  by  an  officer  many  years, 
though  not  so  many  "  files,"  his  junior.  He  never  had  liked  him,  and 
now  there  was  an  air  of  conscious  superiority  about  Jerrold  that  fairly 
exasperated  him.  He  angrily  followed  and  called  to  him  to  stop,  but 
Jerrold  walked  on.  Captain  Chester  stood  still  and  watched  them. 
The  little  man  had  almost  to  run  before  he  overtook  the  tall  one. 
They  were  out  of  earshot  when  he  finally  did  so.  There  were  a  few 
words  on  both  sides.  Then  Jerrold  shifted  his  light  cane  into  his  left 
hand,  and  Chester  started  forward,  half  expecting  a  fracas.  To  his 
astonishment,  the  two  officers  shook  hands  and  parted. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  as  Sloat  came  back  with  an  angry  yet  bewildered 
face,  "I'm  glad  you  shook  hands.  I  almost  feared  a  row,  and  was 
just  going  to  stop  it.  So  he  apologized,  did  he  ?" 

"  No,  nothing  like  it." 

"  Then  what  did  you  mean  by  shaking  hands  ?" 

"That's  nothing — never  you  mind,"  said  Sloat,  confusedly.  "I 
haven't  forgiven  him,  by  a  good  deal.  The  man's  conceit  is  enough  to 
disgust  anything — but  a  woman,  I  suppose,"  he  finished,  ruefully. 

"  Well,  it's  none  of  my  business,  Sloat,  but  pardon  my  saying  I 
don't  see  what  there  was  to  bring  about  the  apparent  reconciliation. 
That  hand-shake  meant  something." 

17* 


198  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Oh,  well — damn  it !  we  had  some  words,  and  he — 01  I Well, 

there's  a  bet,  and  we  shook  hands  on  it." 

"  Seems  to  me  that's  pretty  serious  business,  Sloat, — a  bet  follow- 
ing such  a  talk  as  you  two  have  had.  I  hope " 

"  Well,  captain,"  interrupted  Sloat,  "  I  wouldn't  have  done  it  if 
hadn't  been  mad  as  blazes :  but  I  made  it,  and  must  stick  to  it, — that's 
all." 

"  You  wouldn't  mind  telling  me  what  it  was,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  I  can't ;  and  that  ends  it." 

Captain  Chester  found  food  for  much  thought  and  speculation  over 
this  incident.  So  far  as  he  was  concerned,  the  abrupt  remark  of  Sloat 
by  no  means  ended  it.  In  his  distrust  of  Jerrold,  he  too  had  taken 
alarm  at  the  very  substantial  intimacy  to  which  that  young  man  was 
welcomed  at  the  colonel's  quarters.  Prior  to  his  marriage  old  Maynard 
had  not  liked  him  at  all,  but  it  was  mainly  because  he  had  been  so 
negligent  of  his  duties  and  so  determined  a  beau  in  city  society  after 
his  arrival  at  Sibley.  He  had,  indeed,  threatened  to  have  him  trans- 
ferred to  a  company  still  on  frontier  service  if  he  did  not  reform ;  but 
then  the  rifle-practice  season  began,  and  Jerrold  was  a  capital  shot  and 
sure  to  be  on  the  list  of  competitors  for  the  Department  team,  so  what 
was  the  use  ?  He  would  be  ordered  in  for  the  rifle-camp  anyway,  and 
so  the  colonel  decided  to  keep  him  at  head-quarters.  This  was  in  the 
summer  of  the  year  gone  by.  Then  came  the  colonel's  long  leave, 
his  visit  to  Europe,  his  meeting  with  his  old  friend,  now  the  widow  of 
the  lamented  Renwick,  their  delightful  winter  together  in  Italy,  his 
courtship,  her  consent,  their  marriage  and  return  to  America.  When 
Maynard  came  back  to  Sibley  and  the  old  regiment,  he  was  so  jolly  and 
content  that  every  man  was  welcomed  at  his  house,  and  it  was  really  a 
source  of  pride  and  pleasure  to  him  that  his  accomplished  wife  should 
find  any  of  his  young  officers  so  thoroughly  agreeable  as  she  pronounced 
Mr.  Jerrold.  Others  were  soldierly,  courteous,  well  bred,  but  he  had 
the  air  of  a  foreign  court  about  him,  she  privately  informed  her  lord ; 
and  it  seems,  indeed,  that  in  days  gone  by  Mr.  Jerrold's  father  had 
spent  many  years  in  France  and  Spain,  once  as  his  country's  represen- 
tative near  the  throne.  Though  the  father  died  long  before  the  boy 
was  out  of  his  knickerbockers,  he  had  left  the  impress  of  his  grand 
manner,  and  Jerrold,  to  women  of  any  age,  was  at  once  a  courtier  and 
a  knight.  But  the  colonel  never  saw  how  her  eyes  followed  the  tall 
young  officer  time  and  again.  There  were  women  who  soon  noted  it. 


; 


FROM  THE  HANKS.  199 

and  one  of  them  said  it  was  such  a  yearning,  longing  look.  Was  Mrs. 
Maynard  really  happy  ?  they  asked  each  other.  Did  she  really  want 
to  see  Alice  mate  with  him,  the  handsome,  the  dangerous,  the  selfish 
fellow  they  knew  him  to  be?  If  not,  could  anything  be  more  impru- 
dent than  that  they  should  be  thrown  together  as  they  were  being,  day 
after  day?  Had  Alice  wealth  of  her  own?  If  not,  did  the  mother 
know  that  nothing  would  tempt  Howard  Jerrold  into  an  alliance  with 
a  dowerless  daughter?  These,  and  many  more,  were  questions  that 
came  up  every  day.  The  garrison  could  talk  of  little  else ;  and  Alice 
Renwick  had  been  there  just  three  weeks,  and  was  the  acknowledged 
Queen  of  Hearts  at  Sibley,  when  the  rifle-competitions  began  again, 
and  a  great  array  of  officers  and  men  from  all  over  the  Northwest  came 
to  the  post  by  every  train,  and  their  canvas  tents  dotted  the  broad 
prairie  to  the  north. 

One  lovely  evening  in  August,  just  before  the  practice  began,  Col- 
onel Maynard  took  his  wife  to  drive  out  and  see  the  camp.  Mr.  Jer- 
rold and  Alice  Renwick  followed  on  horseback.  The  carriage  was 
surrounded  as  it  halted  near  the  range,  and  half  a  score  of  officers,  old 
and  young,  were  chatting  with  Mrs.  Maynard,  while  others  gathered 
about  the  lovely  girl  who  sat  there  in  the  saddle.  There  came  march- 
ing up  from  the  railway  a  small  squad  of  soldiers,  competitors  arriving 
from  the  far  West.  Among  them — apparently  their  senior  non-com- 
missioned officer — was  a  tall  cavalry  sergeant,  superbly  built,  and  with 
a  bronzed  and  bearded  and  swarthy  face  that  seemed  to  tell  of  years  of 
campaigning  over  mountain  and  prairie.  They  were  all  men  of  perfect 
physique,  all  in  the  neat,  soldierly  fatigue-dress  of  the  regular  service, 
some  wearing  the  spotless  white  stripes  of  the  infantry,  others  the  less 
artistic  and  equally  destructible  yellow  of  the  cavalry.  Their  swinging 
stride,  erect  carriage,  and  clear  and  handsome  eyes  all  spoke  of  the  per- 
fection of  health  and  soldierly  development.  Curious  glances  were 
turned  to  them  as  they  advanced,  and  Miss  Renwick,  catching  sight  of 
the  party,  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  who  are  these  ?    And  what  a  tall  soldier  that  sergeant  is !" 

"  That  sergeant,  Miss  Renwick,"  said  a  slow,  deliberate  voice,  "  is 
the  man  I  believe  will  knock  Mr.  Jerrold  out  of  the  first  prize.  That 
is  Sergeant  McLeod." 

As  though  he  heard  his  name  pronounced,  the  tall  cavalryman 
glanced  for  the  first  time  at  the  group,  brought  his  rifle  to  the  carry 


200  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

as  if  about  to  salute,  and  was  just  stepping  upon  the  roadside,  where 
he  came  in  full  view  of  the  occupants  of  the  carriage,  when  a  sudden 
pallor  shot  across  his  face,  and  he  plunged  heavily  forward  and  went 
down  like  a  shot.  Sympathetic  officers  and  comrades  surrounded  the 
prostrate  form  in  an  instant.  The  colonel  himself  sprang  from  his 
carriage  and  joined  the  group ;  a  blanket  was  quickly  brought  from  a 
neighboring  tent,  and  the  sergeant  was  borne  thither  and  laid  upon  a 
cot.  A  surgeon  felt  his  pulse  and  looked  inquiringly  around : 

"  Any  of  you  cavalrymen  know  him  well  ?  Has  he  been  affected 
this  way  before?" 

A  young  corporal  who  had  been  bending  anxiously  over  the  sergeant 
straightened  up  and  saluted  : 

"  I  know  him  well,  sir,  and  have  been  with  him  five  years.  He's 
only  had  one  sick  spell  in  all  that  time, — 'twas  just  like  this, — and  then 
he  told  me  he'd  been  sunstruck  once." 

"  This  is  no  case  of  sunstroke,"  said  the  doctor.  "  It  looks  more 
like  the  heart.  How  long  ago  was  the  attack  you  speak  of?" 

"  Three  years  ago  last  April,  sir.  I  remember  it  because  we'd  just 
got  into  Fort  Raines  after  a  long  scout.  He'd  been  the  solidest  man  in 
the  troop  all  through  the  cold  and  storm  and  snow  we  had  in  the 
mountains,  and  we  were  in  the  reading-room,  and  he'd  picked  up  a 
newspaper  and  was  reading  while  the  rest  of  us  were  talking  and 
laughing,  and,  first  thing  we  knew,  he  was  down  on  the  floor,  just  like 
he  was  to-night." 

"  Hm  !"  said  the  surgeon.  "  Yes.  That's  plenty,  steward.  Give 
him  that.  Raise  his  head  a  little,  corporal.  Now  he'll  come  round 
all  right." 

Driving  homeward  that  night,  Colonel  Maynard  musingly  re- 
marked,— 

"  Did  you  see  that  splendid  fellow  who  fainted  away  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  his  wife,  "  you  all  gathered  about  him  so  quickly 
and  carried  him  away.  I  could  not  even  catch  a  glimpse  of  him. 
But  he  had  recovered,  had  he  not?" 

"  Yes.  Still,  I  was  thinking  what  a  singular  fact  it  is  that  occa- 
sionally a  man  slips  through  the  surgeon's  examinations  with  such  a 
malady  as  this.  Now,  here  is  one  of  the  finest  athletes  and  shots  in 
the  whole  army,  a  man  who  has  been  through  some  hard  service  and 
stirring  fights,  has  won  a  tip-top  name  for  himself  and  was  on  tha 
highroad  to  a  commission,  and  yet  this  will  block  him  effectually." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  201 

"Why,  what  is  the  trouble?" 

"  Some  affection  of  the  heart.  Why !  Halloo !  Stop,  driver  * 
Orderly,  jump  down  and  run  back  there.  Mrs.  Maynard  has  dropped 
her  fan. — What  was  it,  dear?"  he  asked,  anxiously.  "You  started; 
and  you  are  white,  and  trembling." 

"  I — I  don't  know,  colonel.  Let  us  go  home.  It  will  be  over  in 
a  minute.  Where  are  Alice  and  Mr.  Jerrold?  Call  them,  please. 
She  must  not  be  out  riding  after  dark." 

But  they  were  not  in  sight;  and  it  was  considerably  after  dark 
when  they  reached  the  fort.  Mr.  Jerrold  explained  that  his  horse  had 
picked  up  a  stone  and  he  had  had  to  walk  him  all  the  way. 

IV 

There  was  no  sleep  for  Captain  Chester  the  rest  of  the  night.  He 
went  home,  threw  off  his  sword-belt,  and  seated  himself  in  a  big  easy- 
chair  before  his  fireplace,  deep  in  thought.  Once  or  twice  he  arose  and 
paced  restlessly  up  and  down  the  room,  as  he  had  done  in  his  excited 
talk  with  Rollins  some  few  hours  before.  Then  he  was  simply  angry 
and  argumentative, — or  declamatory.  Now  he  had  settled  down  into 
a  very  different  frame  of  mind.  He  seemed  awed, — stunned, — crushed. 
He  had  all  the  bearing  and  mien  of  one  who,  having  defiantly  pre- 
dicted a  calamity,  was  thunderstruck  by  the  verification  of  his  prophecy. 
In  all  his  determined  arraignment  of  Mr.  Jerrold,  in  all  the  harsh 
things  he  had  said  and  thought  of  him,  he  had  never  imagined  any 
such  depth  of  scoundrelism  as  the  revelations  of  the  night  foreshadowed. 
Chester  differed  from  many  of  his  brotherhood  :  there  was  no  room  for 
rejoicing  in  his  heart  that  the  worst  he  had  ever  said  of  Jerrold  was 
unequal  to  the  apparent  truth.  He  took  no  comfort  to  his  soul  that 
those  who  called  him  cynical,  crabbed,  unjust,  even  malicious,  would 
now  be  compelled  to  admit  he  was  right  in  his  estimate.  Like  the  best 
of  us,  Chester  could  not  ordinarily  say  "  Vade  retro"  to  the  temptation 
to  think,  if  not  to  say,  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  so  ?"  when  in  every-day 
affairs  his  oft-disputed  views  were  proved  well  founded.  But  in  the 
face  of  such  a  catastrophe  as  now  appeared  engulfing  the  fair  fame  of 
his  regiment  and  the  honor  of  those  whom  his  colonel  held  dear, 
Chester  could  feel  only  dismay  and  grief.  What  was  his  duty  in  the 
light  of  the  discoveries  he  had  made?  To  the  best  of  his  belief,  he 
was  the  only  man  in  the  garrison  who  had  evidence  of  Jerrold's 
absence  from  his  own  quarters  and  of  the  presence  of  some  one  at  hef 


202  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

window.  He  had  taken  prompt  measures  to  prevent  its  being  sus- 
pected by  others.  He  purposely  sent  his  guards  to  search  along  the 
cliff  in  the  opposite  direction  while  he  went  to  Jerrold's  room  and 
thence  back  to  remove  the  tell-tale  ladder.  Should  he  tell  any  one 
until  he  had  confronted  Jerrold  with  the  evidences  of  his  guilt,  and, 
wringing  from  him  his  resignation,  send  him  far  from  the  post  before 
handing  it  in  ?  Time  and  again  he  wished  Frank  Armitage  were  here. 
The  youngest  captain  in  the  regiment,  Armitage  had  been  for  years  its 
adjutant  and  deep  in  the  confidence  of  Colonel  Maynard.  He  was  a 
thorough  soldier,  a  strong,  self-reliant,  courageous  man,  and  one  for 
whom  Chester  had  ever  felt  a  warm  esteem.  Armitage  was  on  leave 
of  absence,  however, — had  been  away  some  time  on  account  of  family 
matters,  and  would  not  return,  *t  was  known,  until  he  had  effected  the 
removal  of  his  mother  and  sister  to  the  new  home  he  had  purchased 
for  them  in  the  distant  East.  It  was  to  his  company  that  Jerrold  had 
been  promoted,  and  there  was  friction  from  the  very  week  that  the 
handsome  subaltern  joined. 

Armitage  had  long  before  "  taken  his  measure,"  and  was  in  no  wise 
pleased  that  so  lukewarm  a  soldier  should  have  come  to  him  as  senior 
subaltern.  They  had  a  very  plain  talk,  for  Armitage  was  straight- 
forward as  a  dart,  and  then,  as  Jerrold  showed  occasional  lapses,  the 
captain  shut  down  on  some  of  his  most  cherished  privileges,  and, 
to  the  indignation  of  society,  the  failure  of  Mr.  Jerrold  to  appear  at 
one  or  two  gatherings  where  he  was  confidently  expected  was  speedily- 
laid  at  his  captain's  door.  The  recent  death  of  his  father  kept  Armi- 
tage from  appearing  in  public,  and,  as  neither  he  nor  the  major  (who 
commanded  the  regiment  while  Maynard  was  abroad)  votiehsafed  the 
faintest  explanation,  society  was  allowed  to  form  its  own  conclusions, 
and  did, — to  the  effect  that  Mr.  Jerrold  was  a  wronged  and  persecuted 
man.  It  was  just  as  the  Maynards  arrived  at  Sibley  that  Armitage 
departed  on  his  leave,  and,  to  his  unspeakable  bliss,  Mr.  Jerrold  suc- 
ceeded to  the  command  of  his  company.  This  fact,  coupled  with  the 
charming  relations  which  were  straightway  established  with  the  colonel's 
family,  placed  him  in  a  position  of  independence  and  gave  him  oppor- 
tunities he  had  never  known  before.  It  was  speedily  evident  that  he 
was  neglecting  his  military  duties, — that  Company  B  was  running 
down  much  faster  than  Armitage  had  built  it  up, — and  yet  no  man  felt 
like  speaking  of  it  to  the  colonel,  who  saw  it  only  occasionally  on  dress- 
Darade.  Chester  had  just  about  determined  to  write  to  Armitage  him- 


F.ROM  THE  RANKS.  203 

self  aud  suggest  his  speedy  return,  when  this  eventful  night  arrived. 
Now  he  fully  made  up  his  mind  that  it  must  be  done  at  once,  and  had 
seated  himself  at  his  desk,  when  the  roar  of  the  sunrise  gun  and  the 
blare  of  the  bugles  warned  him  that  reveille  had  come  and  he  must  again 
go  to  his  guard.  Before  he  returned  to  his  quarters  another  complica- 
tion, even  more  embarrassing,  had  arisen,  and  the  letter  to  Armitage 
was  postponed. 

He  had  received  the  "  present"  of  his  guard  and  verified  the  pres- 
ence of  all  his  prisoners,  when  he  saw  Major  Sloat  still  standing  out  in 
the  middle  of  the  parade,  where  the  adjutant  usually  received  the  re-  ; 
ports  of  the  roll-calls.  Several  company  officers,  having  made  their 
reports,  were  scurrying  back  to  quarters  for  another  snooze  before  break- 
fast-time or  to  get  their  cup  of  coffee  before  going  out  to  the  range. 
Chester  strolled  over  towards  him. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Sloat?" 

"Nothing  much.  The  colonel  told  me  to  receive  the  reveille  re- 
ports for  Hoyt  this  week.  He's  on  general  court-martial." 

"  Yes,  I  know  all  that.     I  mean,  what  are  you  waiting  for  ?" 

"  Mr.  Jerrold  again.     There's  no  report  from  his  company." 

"  Have  you  sent  to  wake  him  ?" 

"  No ;  I'll  go  myself,  and  do  it  thoroughly,  too."  And  the  little 
major  turned  sharply  away  and  walked  direct  to  the  low  range  of 
bachelor  quarters,  dove  under  the  piazza,  and  into  the  green  door- 
way. 

Hardly  knowing  how  to  explain  his  action,  Chester  quickly  fol- 
lowed, and  in  less  than  a  minute  was  standing  in  the  self-same  parlor 
which,  by  the  light  of  a  flickering  match,  he  had  searched  two  hours 
before.  Here  he  halted  and  listened,  while  Sloat  pushed  on  into  the 
bedroom  and  was  heard  vehemently  apostrophizing  some  sleeper : 

"  Does  the  government  pay  you  for  this  sort  of  thing,  I  want  to 
know  ?  Get  up,  Jerrold !  This  is  the  second  time  you've  cut  reveille 
in  ten  days.  Get  up,  I  say !"  And  the  major  was  vigorously  shaking 
at  something,  for  the  bed  creaked  and  groaned. 

"  Wake  up !  I  say,  I'm  blowed  if  I'm  going  to  get  up  here  day 
after  day  and  have  you  sleeping.  Wake,  Nicodemus !  Wake,  you 
snoozing,  snoring,  open-mouthed  masher.  Come,  now ;  I  mean  it." 

A  drowsy,  disgusted  yawn  and  stretch  finally  rewarded  his  efforts. 
Mr.  Jerrold  at  last  opened  his  eyes,  rolled  over,  yawned  sulkily  again, 


204  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

and  tried  to  ovade  his  persecutor,  but  to  no  purpose.  Like  a  little 
terrier,  Sloat  hung  on  to  him  and  worried  and  shook. 

"  Oh,  don't !  damn  it,  don't !"  growled  the  victim.  "  What  do  you 
want,  anyway  ?  Plas  that  infernal  reveille  gone  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  you're  absent  again,  and  no  report  from  B  Company. 
By  the  holy  poker,  if  you  don't  turn  out  and  get  it  and  report  to  me 
on  the  parade  I'll  spot  the  whole  gang  absent,  and  then  no  matin&e  for 
you  to-day,  my  buck.  Come,  out  with  you !  I  mean  it.  Hall  says 
you  and  he  have  an  engagement  in  town ;  and  'pon  my  soul  I'll  bust 
it  if  you  don't  come  out." 

And  so,  growling  and  complaining,  and  yet  half  laughing,  Adonis 
rolled  from  his  couch  and  began  to  get  into  his  clothes.  Chester's 
blood  ran  cold,  then  boiled.  Think  of  a  man  who  could  laugh  like 
that, — and  remember !  When,  how,  had  he  returned  to  the  house  ? 
Listen ! 

"  Confound  you,  Sloat,  /  wouldn't  rout  you  out  in  this  shabby  way. 
Why  couldn't  you  let  a  man  sleep?  I'm  tired  half  to  death." 

"  What  have  you  done  to  tire  you  ?  Slept  all  yesterday  afternoon, 
and  danced  perhaps  a  dozen  times  at  the  doctor's  last  night.  You've 
had  more  sleep  than  I've  had,  begad !  You  took  Miss  llenwick  home 
before  'twas  over,  and  mean  it  was  of  you,  too,  with  all  the  fellows 
that  wanted  to  dance  with  her." 

"  That  wasn't  my  fault :  Mrs.  Maynard  made  her  promise  to  be 
home  at  twelve.  You  old  cackler,  that's  what  sticks  in  your  crop 
yet.  You  are  persecuting  me  because  they  like  me  so  much  better  than 
they  do  you,"  he  went  on,  laughingly  now.  "  Come,  now,  Sloat,  con- 
fess, it  is  all  because  you're  jealous.  You  couldn't  have  that  picture, 
and  I  could." 

Chester  fairly  started.  He  had  urgent  need  to  see  this  young 
gallant, — he  was  staying  for  that  purpose, — but  should  he  listen  to 
further  talk  like  this?  Too  late  to  move,  for  Sloat's  answer  came  like 
a  shot : 


"  I  bet  you  you  neter  could  !' 
"  Biu  didn't  I  tell  vou  I 


you  I  had  ? — a  week  ago  ?" 
"  Ay,  but  I  didn't  believe  it.     You  couldn't  show  it !" 
"  Pshaw,  man  !    Look  here.     Stop,  though  I     Remember,  on  your 
honor,  you  never  tell." 

"  On  my  honor,  of  course." 
"Well,  there!" 


FROM   THE  KANKS.  205 

A  drawer  was  opened.  Chester  heard  a  gulp  of  dismay,  of  genuine 
astonishment  and  conviction  mixed,  as  Sloat  muttered  some  half-articu- 
late words  and  then  came  into  the  front  room.  Jerrold  followed,  caught 
sight  of  Chester,  and  stopped  short,  with  sudden  and  angry  change  of 
color. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  here,"  he  said. 

"  It  was  to  find  where  you  were  that  I  came,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Sloat  turned  and  looked  at  the 
two  men  in  utter  surprise.  Up  to  this  time  he  had  considered  Jerrold's 
absence  from  reveille  as  a  mere  dereliction  of  duty  which  was  ascriba- 
ble  to  the  laziness  and  indifference  of  the  young  officer.  So  far  as 
lay  in  his  power,  he  meant  to  make  him  attend  more  strictly  to  busi- 
ness, and  had  therefore  come  to  his  quarters  and  stirred  him  up.  But 
there  was  no  thought  of  any  serious  trouble  in  his  mind.  His  talk 
had  all  been  roughly  good-humored  until — until  that  bet  was  men- 
tioned, and  then  it  became  earnest.  Now,  as  he  glanced  from  one  man 
to  the  other,  he  saw  in  an  instant  that  something  new — something  of 
unusual  gravity — was  impending.  Chester,  buttoned  to  the  throat  in 
his  dark  uniform,  accurately  gloved  and  belted,  with  pale,  set,  almost 
haggard  face,  was  standing  by  the  centre-table  under  the  drop-light. 
Jerrold,  only  half  drassed,  his  feet  thrust  into  slippers,  his  fingers 
nervously  working  at  the  studs  of  his  dainty  white  shirt,  had  stopped 
short  at  his  bedroom  door,  and,  with  features  that  grew  paler  every 
second  and  a  dark  scowl  on  his  brow,  was  glowering  at  Chester. 

"  Since  when  has  it  been  the  duty  of  the  officer  of  the  day  to  come 
around  and  hunt  up  officers  who  don't  happen  to  be  out  at  reveille  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  It  is  not  your  absence  from  reveille  I  want  explained,  Mr.  Jerrold," 
was  the  cold  and  deliberate  answer.  "  I  wanted  you  at  3.30  this  morn- 
ing, and  you  were  not  and  had  not  been  here." 

An  unmistakable  start  and  shock ;  a  quick,  nervous,  hunted  glance 
around  the  room,  so  cold  and  pallid  in  the  early  light  of  the  August 
morning;  a  clutch  of  Jerrold's  slim  brown  hand  at  the  bared  throat. 
But  he  rallied  gamely,  strode  a  step  forward,  and  looked  his  superior 
full  in  the  face.  Sloat  marked  the  effort  with  which  he  cleared  away 
the  huskiness  that  seemed  to  clog  his  larynx,  but  admired  the  spunk 
with  which  the  young  officer  returned  the  senior's  shot : 

"  What  is  your  authority  here,  I  would  like  to  know  ?  What 
business  has  the  officer  of  the  day  to  want  me  or  any  other  man  not  on 

18 


206  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

guard  ?  Captain  Chester,  you  seem  to  forget  that  I  am  no  longer  your 
second  lieutenant,  and  that  I  am  a  company  commander  like  yourself. 
Do  you  come  by  Colonel  Maynard's  order  to  search  my  quarters  and 
question  me  ?  If  so,  say  so  at  once ;  if  not,  get  out."  And  Jerrold's 
face  was  growing  black  with  wrath,  and  his  big  lustrous  eyes  were  wide 
awake  now  and  fairly  snapping. 

Chester  leaned  upon  the  table  and  deliberated  a  moment.  He  stood 
there  coldly,  distrustfully  eying  the  excited  lieutenant,  then  turned  to 
Sloat : 

"  I  will  be  responsible  for  the  roll-call  of  Company  B  this  morning, 
Sloat.  I  have  a  matter  of  grave  importance  to  bring  up  to  this — this 
gentleman,  and  it  is  of  a  private  nature.  Will  you  let  me  see  him 
alone?" 

"  Sloat,"  said  Jerrold,  "  don't  go  yet.  I  want  you  to  stay.  These 
are  my  quarters,  and  I  recognize  your  right  to  come  here  in  search  of 
me,  since  I  was  not  at  reveille ;  but  I  want  a  witness  here  to  bear  me 
out.  I'm  too  amazed  yet — too  confounded  by  this  intrusion  of  Captain 
Chester's  to  grasp  the  situation.  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  this. 
Explain  it,  if  you  can." 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  what  I  have  to  ask  or  say  to  you  concerns  you  alone. 
It  is  not  an  official  matter.  It  is  as  man  to  man  I  want  to  see  you, 
alone  and  at  once.  Now  will  you  let  Major  Sloat  retire  ?" 

Silence  for  a  moment.  The  angry  flush  on  Jerrold's  face  was  dying 
away,  and  in  its  place  an  ashen  pallor  was  spreading  from  throat  to 
brow ;  his  lips  were  twitching  ominously.  Sloat  looked  in  consterna- 
tion at  the  sudden  change. 

"Shall  I  go?"  he  finally  asked. 

Jerrold  looked  long,  fixedly,  searchingly  in  the  set  face  of  the  officer 
of  the  day,  breathing  hard  and  heavily.  What  he  saw  there  Sloat  could 
not  imagine.  At  last  his  hand  dropped  by  his  side ;  he  made  a  little 
motion  with  it,  a  slight  wave  towards  the  door,  and  again  dropped  it 
nervously.  His  lips  seemed  to  frame  the  word  "  Go,"  but  he  never 
glanced  at  the  man  whom  a  moment  before  he  so  masterfully  bade  to 
stay ;  and  Sloat,  sorely  puzzled,  left  the  room. 

Not  until  his  footsteps  had  died  out  of  hearing  did  Chester  speak : 

"  How  soon  can  you  leave  the  post  ?" 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  How  soon  can  you  pack  up  what  you  need  to  take  and — get 
away?" 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  207 

"  Get  away  where?    What  on  earth  do  you  mean ?" 

"  You  must  know  what  I  mean !  You  must  know  that  after  last 
night's  work  you  quit  the  service  at  once  and  forever." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  of  the  kind ;  and  I  defy  you  to  prove  the 
faintest  thing."  But  Jerrold's  fingers  were  twitching,  and  his  eyes  had 
lost  their  light. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  did  not  recognize  you  ?"  asked  Chester. 

"When?— where?"  gulped  Jerrold. 

"  When  I  seized  you  and  you  struck  me !" 

"  I  never  struck  you.     I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  My  God,  man,  let  us  end  this  useless  fencing.  The  evidence  I 
have  of  your  last  night's  scoundrelism  would  break  the  strongest  record. 
For  the  regiment's  sake, — for  the  colonel's  sake, — let  us  have  no  public 
scandal.  It's  awful  enough  as  the  thing  stands.  Write  your  resignation, 
give  it  to  me,  and  leave, — before  breakfast  if  you  can." 

"  I've  done  nothing  to  resign  for.  You  know  perfectly  well  I 
haven't." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  such  a  crime — that  a  woman's  ruin  and  disgrace 
— isn't  enough  to  drive  you  from  the  service?"  asked  Chester,  tingling 
in  every  nerve  and  longing  to  clinch  the  shapely,  swelling  throat  in  his 
clutching  fingers.  "  God  of  heaven,  Jerrold !  are  you  dead  to  all  sense 
of  decency?'7 

"  Captain  Chester,  I  won't  be  bullied  this  way.  I  may  not  be  im- 
maculate, but  no  man  on  earth  shall  talk  to  me  like  this  I  I  deny  your 
insinuations.  I've  done  nothing  to  warrant  your  words,  even  if— if  you 
did  come  sneaking  around  here  last  night  and  find  me  absent.  You 
can't  prove  a  thing.  You " 

"  What !  When  I  saw  you, — almost  caught  you  !  By  heaven  I 
I  wish  the  sentry  had  killed  you  then  and  there.  I  never  dreamed  of 
such  hardihood." 

"  You've  done  nothing  but  dream.  By  Jove,  I  believe  you're  sleep- 
walking yet.  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  by  catching  and  killing  me  ? 
Ton  my  soul  I  reckon  you're  crazy,  Captain  Chester."  And  color  was 
gradually  coming  back  again  to  Jerrold's  face,  and  confidence  to  his 
tone. 

"  Enough  of  this,  Mr.  Jerrold.  Knowing  what  you  and  I  both 
know,  do  you  refuse  to  hand  me  your  resignation  ?" 

"Of  course  I  do." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  deny  to  me  where  I  saw  you  last  night  ?" 


208  FROM  THE  KANKS. 

"  I  deny  your  right  to  question  me.  I  deny  anything, — everything. 
1  believe  you  simply  thought  you  had  a  clue  and  could  make  me  tell. 
Suppose  I  was  out  last  night.  I  don't  believe  you  know  the  faintest 
thing  about  it." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  report  the  whole  thing  to  the  colonel  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  don't.  Naturally,  I  want  him  to  know  nothing 
about  my  being  out  of  quarters ;  and  it's  a  thing  that  no  officer  woula 
think  of  reporting  another  for.  You'll  only  win  the  contempt  of  ever)' 
gentleman  in  the  regiment  if  you  do  it.  What  good  will  it  do  you  ?— 
Keep  me  from  going  to  town  for  a  few  days,  I  suppose.  What  earthly 
business  is  it  of  yours,  anyway  ?" 

"  Jerrold,  I  can  stand  this  no  longer.  I  ought  to  shoot  you  in  your 
tracks,  I  believe.  You've  brought  ruin  and  misery  to  the  home  of  my 
warmest  friend,  and  dishonor  to  the  whole  service,  and  you  talk  of  two 
or  three  days'  stoppage  from  going  to  town.  If  I  can't  bring  you  to 
your  senses,  by  God  !  the  colonel  shall."  And  he  wheeled  and  left  the 
room. 

For  a  moment  Jerrold  stood  stunned  and  silent.  It  was  useless  to 
attempt  reply.  The  captain  was  far  down  the  walk  when  he  sprang  to 
the  door  to  call  him  again.  Then,  hurrying  back  to  the  bedroom,  he 
hastily  dressed,  muttering  angrily  and  anxiously  to  himself  as  he  did 
so.  He  was  thinking  deeply,  too,  and  every  movement  betrayed  ner- 
vousness and  trouble.  Returning  to  the  front  door,  he  gazed  out  upon 
the  parade,  then  took  his  forage-cap  and  walked  rapidly  down  towards 
the  adjutant's  office.  The  orderly  bugler  was  tilted  up  in  a  chair,  lean- 
ing half  asleep  against  the  whitewashed  front,  but  his  was  a  weasel  nap, 
for  he  sprang  up  and  saluted  as  the  young  officer  approached. 

"  Where  did  Major  Sloat  go,  orderly  ?"  was  the  hurried  question. 

"Over  towards  the  stables,  sir.  Him  and  Captain  Chester  was 
here  together,  and  they're  just  gone." 

"  Run  over  to  the  quarters  of  B  Company  and  tell  Merrick  I  want 
him  right  away.  Tell  him  to  come  to  my  quarters."  And  thither  Mr. 
Jerrold  returned,  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  wrote  several  lines  of  a  note, 
tore  it  into  fragments,  began  again,  wrote  another  which  seemed  not  en- 
tirely satisfactory,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  a  third  when  there  came  a 
quick  step  and  a  knock  at  the  door.  Opening  the  shutters,  he  glanced 
out  of  the  window.  A  gust  of  wind  sent  some  of  the  papers  whirling 
and  flying,  and  the  bedroom  door  banged  shut,  but  not  before  some  few 
half-sheets  of  paper  had  fluttered  out  upon  the  parade,  where  other  little 


FROM  THE  BANKS.  209 

flurries  of  the  morning  breeze  sent  them  sailing  over  towards  the  colonel's 
quarters.  Anxious  only  for  the  coming  of  Merrick  and  no  one  else,  Mr. 
Jerrold  no  sooner  saw  who  was  at  the  front  door  than  he  closed  the 
shutters,  called,  "  Come  in  !"  and  a  short,  squat,  wiry  little  man,  dressed 
in  the  fatigue-uniform  of  the  infantry,  stood  at  the  door-way  to  the  hall. 

"  Come  in  here,  Merrick,"  said  the  lieutenant,  and  Merrick  came. 

"  How  much  is  it  you  owe  me  now  ? — thirty-odd  dollars,  I  think  ?" 

"  I  believe  it  is,  lieutenant,"  answered  the  man,  with  shifting  eyes 
and  general  uneasiness  of  mien. 

"  You  are  not  ready  to  pay  it,  I  suppose ;  and  you  got  it  from  me 
•when  we  left  Fort  Raines,  to  help  you  out  of  that  scrape  there." 

The  soldier  looked  down  and  made  no  answer. 

"  Merrick,  I  want  a  note  taken  to  town  at  once.  I  want  you  to 
take  it  and  get  it  to  its  address  before  eight  o'clock.  I  want  you  to  say 
no  word  to  a  soul.  Here's  ten  dollars.  Hire  old  Murphy's  horse 
across  the  river  and  go.  If  you  are  put  in  the  guard-house  when  you 
get  back,  don't  say  a  word  ;  if  you  are  tried  by  garrison  court  for 
crossing  the  bridge  or  absence  without  leave,  plead  guilty,  make  no 
defence,  and  I'll  pay  you  double  your  fine  and  let  you  off  the  thirty 
dollars.  But  if  you  fail  me,  or  tell  a  soul  of  your  errand,  I'll  write  to 
— you  know  who,  at  Raines.  Do  you  understand,  and  agree  ?" 

"I  do.    Yessir." 

"  Go  and  get  ready,  and  be  here  in  ten  minutes." 

Meantime,  Captain  Chester  had  followed  Sloat  to  the  adjutant's 
office.  He  was  boiling  over  with  indignation  which  he  hardly  knerc 
how  to  control.  He  found  the  gray-moustached  subaltern  tramping  in 
great  perplexity  up  and  down  the  room,  and  the  instant  he  entered  was 
greeted  with  the  inquiry, — 

"  What's  gone  wrong  ?     What's  Jerrold  been  doing  ?" 

"  Don't  ask  me  any  questions,  Sloat,  but  answer.  It  is  a  matter 
of  honor.  What  was  your  bet  with  Jerrold  ?" 

"  I  oughtn't  to  tell  that,  Chester.  Surely  it  cannot  be  a  matter 
mixed  up  with  this." 

"  I  can't  explain,  Sloat.  What  I  ask  is  unavoidable.  Tell  me 
about  that  bet." 

"  Why,  he  was  so  superior  and  airy,  you  know,  and  was  trying  to 
make  me  feel  that  he  was  so  much  more  intimate  with  them  all  at  the 
colonel's,  and  that  he  could  have  that  picture  for  the  mere  asking ;  and 
I  got  mad,  and  bet  him  he  never  could." 

18* 


210  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Was  that  the  day  you  shook  hands  on  it?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  that  was  her  picture — the  picture,  then — he  showed  you  this 
morning." 

"  Chester,  you  heard  the  conversation :  you  were  there :  you  know 
that  I'm  on  honor  not  to  tell." 

"Yes,  I  know.     That's  quite  enough." 

V. 

Before  seven  o'clock  that  same  morning  Captain  Chester  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  only  one  course  was  left  open  for  him.  After  the 
brief  talk  with  Sloat  at  the  office  he  had  increased  the  perplexity  and 
distress  of  that  easily-muddled  soldier  by  requesting  his  company  in  a 
brief  visit  to  the  stables  and  corrals.  A  "  square"  and  reliable  old 
veteran  was  the  quartermaster  sergeant  who  had  charge  of  those  es- 
tablishments ;  Chester  had  known  him  for  years,  and  his  fidelity  and 
honesty  were  matters  the  officers  of  his  former  regiment  could  not  too 
highly  commend.  When  Sergeant  Parks  made  an  official  statement 
there  was  no  shaking  its  solidity.  He  slept  in  a  little  box  of  a  house 
close  by  the  entrance  to  the  main  stable,  in  which  were  kept  the  private 
horses  of  several  of  the  officers,  and  among  them  Mr.  Jerrold's  ;  and 
it  was  his  boast  that,  day  or  night,  no  horse  left  that  stable  without  his 
knowledge.  The  old  man  was  superintending  the  morning  labors  of 
the  stable-hands,  and  looked  up  in  surprise  at  so  early  a  visit  from  the 
officer  of  the  day. 

""Were  you  here  all  last  night,  sergeant?"  was  Chester's  abrupt 
question. 

"  Certainly,  sir,  and  up  until  one  o'clock  or  more." 

"Were  any  horses  out  during  the  night, — any  officers'  horses,  I 
mean?" 

"  No,  sir,  not  one." 

"  I  thought  possibly  some  officers  might  have  driven  or  ridden  to 
town." 

"  No,  sir.  The  only  horses  that  crossed  this  threshold  going  out 
last  night  were  Mr.  Sutton's  team  from  town.  They  were  put  up  here 
until  near  one  o'clock,  and  then  the  doctor  sent  over  for  them.  I 
locked  up  right  after  that,  and  can  swear  nothing  else  went  out." 

Chester  entered  the  stable  and  looked  curi  3usly  around.     Presently 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  211 

his  eye  lighted  on  a  tall,  rangy  bay  horse  that  was  being  groomed  in  a 
wide  stall  near  the  door-way. 

"That's  Mr.  Jerrold's  Roderick,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  He's  fresh  as  a  daisy,  too, — hasn't  been  out  for  three 
days, — and  Mr.  Jerrold's  going  to  drive  the  dog-cart  this  morning." 

Chester  turned  away. 

"Sloat,"  said  he,  as  they  left  the  stable,  "if  Mr.  Jerrold  was  away 
from  the  post  last  night, — and  you  heard  me  say  he  was  out  of  his 
quarters, — could  he  have  gone  any  way  except  afoot,  after  what  you 
heard  Parks  say  ?" 

"Gone  in  the  Buttons'  outfit,  I  suppose,"  was  Sloat's  cautious 
answer. 

"In  which  event  he  would  have  been  seen  by  the  sentry  at  the 
bridge,  would  he  not  ?" 

"  Ought  to  have  been,  certainly." 

"  Then  we'll  go  back  to  the  guard-house."  And,  wonderingly  and 
uncomfortably,  Sloat  followed.  He  had  long  since  begun  to  wish  he 
had  held  his  peace  and  said  nothing  about  the  confounded  roll-call. 
He  hated  rows  of  any  kind.  He  didn't  like  Jerrold,  but  he  would 
have  crawled  venire  d,  terre  across  the  wide  parade  sooner  than  see  a 
scandal  in  the  regiment  he  loved ;  and  it  was  becoming  apparent  to  his 
sluggish  faculties  that  it  was  no  mere  matter  of  absence  from  quarters 
that  was  involving  Jerrold.  Chester  was  all  aflame  over  that  picture- 
business,  he  remembered,  and  the  whole  drift  of  his  present  inves- 
tigation was  to  prove  that  Jerrold  was  not  absent  from  the  post,  but 
absent  only  from  his  quarters.  If  so,  where  had  he  spent  his  time 
until  nearly  four  ?  Sloat's  heart  was  heavy  with  vague  apprehension. 
He  knew  that  Jerrold  had  borne  Alice  Renwick  away  from  the  party 
at  an  unusually  early  hour  for  such  things  to  break  up.  He  knew 
that  he  and  others  had  protested  against  such  desertion,  but  she  de- 
clared it  could  not  be  helped.  He  remembered  another  thing, — a 
matter  that  he  thought  of  at  the  time,  only  from  another  point  of  view. 
It  now  seemed  to  have  significance  bearing  on  this  very  matter;  for 
Chester  suddenly  asked, — 

"  Wasn't  it  rather  odd  that  Miss  Beaubien  was  not  here  at  the 
dance  ?  She  has  never  missed  one,  seems  to  me,  since  Jerrold  began 
spooning  with  her  last  year." 

"  Why,  she  was  here." 

"She  was?    Are  you  sure?    Rollins  never  spoke  of  it;  and  wa 


212  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

had  been  talking  of  her.  I  inferred  from  what  he  said  that  she  was 
not  there  at  all.  And  I  saw  her  drive  homeward  with  her  mother 
right  after  parade :  so  it  didn't  occur  to  me  that  she  could  have  come 
out  again,  all  that  distance,  in  time  for  the  dance.  Singular  1  Why 
shouldn't  Rollins  have  told  me?" 

Sloat  grinned :  a  dreary  sort  of  smile  it  was,  too.     "  You  go  into 
society  so  seldom  you  don't  see  these  things.     I've  more  than  half  sus 
pected  Rollins  of  being  quite  ready  to  admire  Miss  Beaubien  himself; 
and  since  Jerrold  dropped  her  he  has  had  plenty  of  opportunity." 

"  Great  guns !  I  never  thought  of  it !  If  I'd  known  she  was  to 
be  there  I'd  have  gone  myself  last  night.  How  did  she  behave  to 
Miss  Ren  wick  ?" 

"  Why,  sweet  and  smiling,  and  chipper  as  you  please.  If  anything, 
I  think  Miss  Renwick  was  cold  and  distant  to  her.  I  couldn't  make 
it  out  at  all." 

"And  did  Jerrold  dance  with  her?" 

"Once,  I  think,  and  they  had  a  talk  out  on  the  piazza,— just  a 
minute.  I  happened  to  be  at  the  door,  and  couldn't  help  seeing  it ; 
and  what  got  me  was  this  :  Mr.  Hall  came  out  with  Miss  Renwick  on 
his  arm ;  they  were  chatting  and  laughing  as  they  passed  me,  but  the 
moment  she  caught  sight  of  Jerrold  and  Miss  Beaubien  she  stopped, 
and  said,  '  I  think  I  won't  stay  out  here  ;  it's  too  chilly,'  or  something 
like  it,  and  went  right  in ;  and  then  Jerrold  dropped  Miss  Beaubien 
and  went  after  her.  He  just  handed  the  young  lady  over  to  me,  saying 
he  was  engaged  for  next  dance,  and  skipped." 

"  How  did  she  like  that  ?     Wasn't  she  furious  ?" 

"  No.  That's  another  thing  that  got  me.  She  smiled  after  him,  all 
sweetness,  and — well,  she  did  say,  '  I  count  upon  you, — you'll  be  there/ 
and  he  nodded.  Oh,  she  was  bright  as  a  button  after  that." 

"  What  did  she  mean  ?— be  <  where/  do  you  suppose  ?  Sloat,  this  all 
means  more  to  me,  and  to  us  all,  than  I  can  explain." 

"  I  don't  know.     I  can't  imagine." 

"  Was  it  to  see  her  again  that  night?" 

"  I  don't  know  at  all.  If  it  was,  he  fooled  her,  for  he  never  went 
near  her  again.  Rollins  put  her  in  the  carriage." 

"  Whose  ?     Did  she  come  out  with  the  Suttons  ?" 

"  Why,  certainly.     I  thought  you  knew  that." 

"  And  neither  old  Madame  Beaubien  nor  Mrs.  Sutton  with  them  ? 
What  was  the  old  squaw  thinking  of?" 


FROM  THE  BANKS.  213 

By  this  time  they  had  neared  the  guard-house,  where  several  of  the 
men  were  seated  awaiting  the  call  for  the  next  relief.  All  arose  at 
the  shout  of  the  sentry  on  Number  One,  turning  out  the  guard  for  the 
officer  of  the  day.  Chester  made  hurried  and  impatient  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  salute,  and  called  to  the  sergeant  to  send  him  the  sentry 
who  was  at  the  bridge  at  one  o'clock.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  young 
soldier  who  had  enlisted  at  the  post  only  six  months  before  and  was 
already  known  as  one  of  the  most  intelligent  and  promising  candidates 
for  a  corporalship  in  the  garrison. 

"  Were  you  on  duty  at  the  bridge  at  one  o'clock,  Carey  ?"  asked  the 
captain. 

"  I  was,  sir.     My  relief  went  on  at  11.45  and  came  off  at  1.45." 

"  What  persons  passed  your  post  during  that  time  ?" 

"  There  was  a  squad  or  two  of  men  coming  back  from  town  on  pass. 
I  halted  them,  sir,  and  Corporal  Murray  caine  down  and  passed  them  in." 

"  I  don't  mean  coming  from  town.     Who  went  the  other  way  ?" 

"  Only  one  carriage,  sir, — Mr.  Sutton's." 

"  Could  you  see  who  were  in  it  ?" 

"  Certainly,  sir :  it  was  right  under  the  lamp-post  this  end  of  the 
bridge  that  I  stood  when  I  challenged.  Lieutenant  Rollins  answered 
for  them  and  passed  them  out.  He  was  sitting  beside  Mr.  Sutton  as 
they  drove  up,  then  jumped  out  and  gave  me  the  countersign  aud  bade 
them  good-night  right  there." 

"  Rollins  again,"  thought  Chester.  "  Why  did  he  keep  this  from 
me?" 

"  Who  were  in  the  carriage  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Mr.  Sutton,  sir,  on  the  front  seat,  driving,  and  two  young  ladies 
on  the  back  seat." 

"Nobody  else?" 

"  Not  a  soul,  sir.  I  could  see  in  it  plain  as  day.  One  lady  was 
Miss  Sutton,  and  the  other  Miss  Beaubien.  I  know  I  was  surprised  at 
seeing  the  latter,  because  she  drove  home  in  her  own  carriage  last  even- 
ing right  after  parade.  I  was  on  post  there  at  that  hour  too,  sir.  The 
second  relief  is  on  from  5.45  to  7.45." 

"  That  will  do,  Carey.     I  see  your  relief  is  forming  now." 

As  the  officers  walked  away  and  Sloat  silently  plodded  along  beside 
his  dark-browed  senior,  the  latter  turned  to  him : 

"  I  should  say  that  there  was  no  way  in  which  Mr.  Jerrold  could 
have  gone  townwards  last  night.  Should  not  you  ?" 


214  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  He  might  have  crossed  the  bridge  while  the  third  relief  was  on, 
and  got  a  horse  at  the  other  side." 

"  He  didn't  do  that,  Sloat.  I  had  already  questioned  the  sentry  on 
that  relief.  It  was  the  third  that  I  inspected  and  visited  this  morning." 

"  "Well,  how  do  you  know  he  wanted  to  go  to  town  ?  Why  couldn't 
he  have  gone  up  the  river,  or  out  to  the  range  ?  Perhaps  there  was  a 
little  game  of  '  draw*  out  at  camp." 

"  There  was  no  light  in  camp,  much  less  a  little  game  of  draw, 
after  eleven  o'clock.  You  know  well  enough  that  there  is  nothing  of 
that  kind  going  on  with  Gaines  in  command.  That  isn't  Jerrold's 
game,  even  if  those  fellows  were  bent  on  ruining  their  eyesight  and 
nerve  and  spoiling  the  chance  of  getting  the  men  on  the  division  and 
army  teams.  I  wish  it  were  his  game,  instead  of  what  it  is  !" 

"  Still,  Chester,  he  may  have  been  out  in  the  country  somewhere. 
You  seem  bent  on  the  conviction  he  was  up  to  mischief  here,  around 
this  post.  I  won't  ask  you  what  you  mean ;  but  there's  more  than  one 
way  of  getting  to  town  if  a  man  wants  to  very  bad." 

"How?  Of  course  he  can  take  a  skiff  and  row  down  the  river; 
but  he'd  never  be  back  in  time  for  reveille.  There  goes  six  o'clock, 
and  I  must  get  home  and  shave  and  think  this  over.  Keep  your  own 
counsel,  no  matter  who  asks  you.  If  you  hear  any  questions  or  talk 
about  shooting  last  night,  you  know  nothing,  heard  nothing,  and  saw 
nothing." 

"Shooting  last  night!"  exclaimed  Sloat,  all  agog  with  eagerness 
and  excitement  now.  "  Where  was  it  ?  Who  was  it  ?" 

But  Chester  turned  a  deaf  ear  upon  him,  and  walked  away.  He 
wanted  to  see  Rollins,  and  went  straight  home. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  Miss  Beaubien  was  out  here  last  night  ?" 
was  the  question  he  asked  as  soon  as  he  had  entered  the  room  where, 
all  aglow  from  his  cold  bath,  the  youngster  was  dressing  for  breakfast. 
He  colored  vividly,  then  laughed. 

"  Well,  you  never  gave  me  much  chance  to  say  anything,  did  you  ? 
You  talked  all  the  time,  as  I  remember,  and  suddenly  vanished  and 
slammed  the  door.  I  would  have  told  you  had  you  asked  me."  But 
all  the  same  it  was  evident  for  the  first  time  that  here  was  a  subject 
Rollins  was  shy  of  mentioning. 

"  Did  you  go  down  and  see  them  across  sentry  post  ?" 

"  Certainly.     Jerrold  asked  me  to.     He  said  he  had  to  take  Miss 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  216 

Ren  wick  home,  and  was  too  tired  to  come  back, — was  going  to  turn  in. 
I  was  glad  to  do  anything  to  be  civil  to  the  Buttons." 

"  Why,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  They  have  never  invited  you  to  the 
house  or  shown  you  any  attention  whatever.  You  are  not  their  style 
at  all,  Rollins,  and  I'm  glad  of  it.  It  wasn't  for  their  sake  you  stayed 
there  until  one  o'clock  instead  of  being  here  in  bed.  I  wish — "  and  he 
looked  wistfully,  earnestly,  at  his  favorite  now,  "  I  wish  I  could  think 
•it  wasn't  for  the  sake  of  Miss  Beaubien's  black  eyes  and  aboriginal 
beauty." 

"  Look  here,  captain,"  said  Rollins,  with  another  rush  of  color  to 
his  face ;  "  you  don't  seem  to  fancy  Miss  Beaubien,  and — she's  a  friend 
of  mine,  and  one  I  don't  like  to  hear  slightingly  spoken  of.  You  said  a 
good  deal  last  night  that — well,  wasn't  pleasant  to  hear." 

"  I  know  it,  Rollins.  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  didn't  know  then  that 
you  were  more  than  slightly  acquainted  with  her.  I'm  an  old  bat,  and 
go  out  very  little,  but  some  things  are  pretty  clear  to  my  eyes,  and — 
don't  you  be  falling  in  love  with  Nina  Beaubien.  That  is  no  match  for 
you." 

"  Fm  sure  you  never  had  a  word  to  say  against  her  father.  The 
old  colonel  was  a  perfect  type  of  the  French  gentleman,  from  all  I 
hear." 

"  Yes,  and  her  mother  is  as  perfect  a  type  of  a  Chippewa  squaw,  if 
she  is  only  a  half-breed  and  claims  to  be  only  a  sixteenth.  Rollins, 
there's  Indian  blood  enough  in  Nina  Beaubien's  little  finger  to  make 
me  afraid  of  her.  She  is  strong  as  death  in  love  or  hate,  and  you  must 
have  seen  how  she  hung  on  Jerrold's  every  word  all  last  winter.  You 
must  know  she  is  not  the  girl  to  be  lightly  dropped  now." 

"  She  told  me  only  a  day  or  two  ago  they  were  the  best  of  friends 
and  had  never  been  anything  else,"  said  Rollins,  hotly. 

"  Has  it  gone  that  far,  my  boy  ?  I  had  not  thought  it  so  bad,  by 
any  means.  It's  no  use  talking  with  a  man  who  has  lost  his  heart  ; 
his  reason  goes  with  it."  And  Chester  turned  away. 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  was  all  poor  Rollins  could 
think  of  as  a  suitable  thing  to  shout  after  him ;  and  it  made  no  more 
impression  than  it  deserved. 

As  has  boen  said,  Captain  Chester  had  decided  before  seven  o'clock 
that  but  one  course  lay  open  to  him  in  the  matter  as  now  developed. 
Had  Armitage  been  there  he  would  have  had  an  adviser,  but  there  was  no 
other  man  whose  counsel  he  cared  to  seek.  Old  Captain  Gray  was  as 


216  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

bitter  against  Jerrold  as  Chester  himself,  and  with  even  better  reason, 
for  he  knew  well  the  cause  of  his  little  daughter's  listless  manner  and 
tearful  eyes.  She  had  been  all  radiance  and  joy  at  the  idea  of  coming 
to  Sibley  and  being  near  the  great  cities,  but  not  one  happy  look  had 
he  seen  in  her  sweet  and  wistful  face  since  the  day  of  her  arrival. 
Wilton,  too,  was  another  captain  who  disliked  Jerrold ;  and  Chester's 
nigged  sense  of  fair  play  told  him  that  it  was  not  among  the  enemies 
of  the  young  officer  that  he  should  now  seek  advice,  but  that  if  he  had 
a  friend  among  the  older  and  wiser  heads  in  the  regiment  it  was  due  to 
him  that  that  older  and  wiser  head  be  given  a  chance  to  think  a  little 
for  Jerrold's  sake.  And  there  was  not  one  among  the  seniors  whom  he 
could  call  upon.  As  he  ran  over  their  names,  Chester  for  the  first  time 
realized  that  his  ex-subaltern  had  not  a  friend  among  the  captains  and 
senior  officers  now  on  duty  at  the  fort.  His  indifference  to  duties,  his 
airy  foppishness,  his  conceit  and  self-sufficiency,  had  all  served  to  create 
a  feeling  against  him;  and  this  had  been  intensified  by  his  conduct 
since  coming  to  Sibley.  The  youngsters  still  kept  up  jovial  relations 
with  and  professed  to  like  him,  but  among  the  seniors  there  were  many 
men  who  had  only  a  nod  for  him  on  meeting.  Wilton  had  epitomized 
the  situation  by  saying  he  "  had  no  use  for  a  masher,"  and  poor  old 
Gray  had  one  day  scowlingly  referred  to  him  as  "the  professional 
beauty." 

In  view  of  all  this  feeling,  Chester  would  gladly  have  found  some 
man  to  counsel  further  delay ;  but  there  was  none.  He  felt  that  he 
must  inform  the  colonel  at  once  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Jerrold  was  absent 
from  his  quarters  at  the  time  of  the  firing,  of  his  belief  that  it  was 
Jerrold  who  struck  him  and  sped  past  the  sentry  in  the  dark,  and  of 
his  conviction  that  the  sooner  the  young  officer  was  called  to  account 
for  his  strange  conduct  the  better.  As  to  the  episodes  of  the  ladder, 
the  lights,  and  the  form  at  the  dormer-window,  he  meant,  for  the  present 
at  least,  to  lock  them  in  his  heart. 

But  he  forgot  that  others  too  must  have  heard  those  shots,  and  that 
others  too  would  be  making  inquiries. 

VI. 

A  lovely  morning  it  was  that  beamed  on  Sibley  and  the  broad  and 
beautiful  valley  of  the  Cloudwater  when  once  the  sun  got  fairly  above 
the  moist  horizon.  Mist  and  vapor  and  heavy  cloud  all  seemed  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  gathering,  glowing  warmth,  as  though  the  King  of 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  217 

Day  had  risen  atlrirst  and  drained  the  welcoming  cup  of  nature.  It 
must  have  rained  at  least  a  little  during  the  darkness  of  the  night,  for 
dew  there  could  have  been  none  with  skies  so  heavily  overcast,  and  yet  the 
short  smooth  turf  on  the  parade,  the  leaves  upon  the  little  shade-trees 
ground  the  quadrangle,  and  all  the  beautiful  vines  here  on  the  trellis- 
work  of  the  colonel's  veranda,  shone  and  sparkled  in  the  radiant  light. 
The  roses  in  the  little  garden,  and  the  old-fashioned  morning-glory 
vines  over  at  the  east  side,  were  all  a-glitter  in  the  flooding  sunshine 
when  the  bugler  came  out  from  a  glance  at  the  clock  in  the  adjutant's 
office  and  sounded  "sick-call"  to  the  indifferent  ear  of  the  garrison. 
Once  each  day,  at  7.30  A.M.,  the  doctor  trudged  across  to  the  hospital 
and  looked  over  the  half-dozen  "  hopelessly  healthy"  but  would-be  in- 
valids who  wanted  to  get  off  guard  duty  or  a  morning  at  the  range. 
Thanks  to  the  searching  examination  to  which  every  soldier  must  be 
subjected  before  he  can  enter  the  service  of  Uncle  Sam,  and  to  the  dis- 
ciplined order  of  the  lives  of  the  men  at  Sibley,  maladies  of  any  serious 
nature  were  almost  unknown.  It  was  a  gloriously  healthy  post,  as» 
everybody  admitted,  and,  to  judge  from  the  specimen  of  young- woman- 
hood that  came  singing,  "  blithe  and  low,"  out  among  the  roses  this 
same  joyous  morning,  exuberant  physical  well-being  was  not  restricted 
to  the  men. 

A  fairer  picture  never  did  dark  beauty  present  than  Alice  Renwick, 
as  she  bent  among  the  bushes  or  reached  high  among  the  vines  in  search 
of  her  favorite  flowers.  Tall,  slender,  willowy,  yet  with  exquisitely- 
rounded  form ;  slim,  dainty  little  hands  and  feet ;  graceful  arms  and 
wrists  all  revealed  in  the  flowing  sleeves  of  her  snowy,  web-like  gown, 
fitting  her  and  displaying  her  sinuous  grace  of  form  as  gowns  so  seldom 
do  to-day.  And  then  her  face  ! — a  glorious  picture  of  rich,  ripe,  tropi- 
cal beauty,  with  its  great,  soulful,  sunlit  eyes,  heavily  shaded  though 
they  were  with  those  wondrous  lashes ;  beautiful,  too,  in  contour  as 
was  the  lithe  body,  and  beautiful  in  every  feature,  even  to  the  rare  and 
dewy  curve  of  her  red  lips,  half  opened  as  she  sang.  She  was  smiling 
to  herself,  as  she  crooned  her  soft,  murmuring  melody,  and  every 
little  while  the  great  dark  eyes  glanced  over  towards  the  shaded  doors 
of  Bachelors'  Row.  There  was  no  one  up  to  watch  and  tell :  why 
should  she  not  look  thither,  and  even  stand  one  moment  peering  under 
ihe  veranda  at  a  darkened  window  half-way  down  the  row,  as  though 
impatient  at  the  non-appearance  of  some  familiar  signal  ?  How  came 
the  laggard  late?  How  slept  the  knight  while  here  his  lady  stood  im- 

19 


218  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

patient?  She  twined  the  leaves  and  roses  in  a  fragrant  knot,  ran 
lightly  within  and  laid  them  on  the  snowy  cloth  beside  the  colonel's 
seat  at  table,  came  forth  and  plucked  some  more  and  fastened  them, 
blushing,  blissful,  in  the  lace-fringed  opening  of  her  gown,  through 
which,  soft  and  creamy,  shone  the  perfect  neck. 

"  Daisy,  tell  my  fortune,  pray : 
He  loves  me  not, — he  loves  me," 

ghe  blithely  sang,  then,  hurrying  to  the  gate,  shaded  her  eyes  with  the 
shapely  hand  and  gazed  intently.  'Twas  nearing  eight, — nearing 
breakfast-time.  But  some  one  was  coming.  Horrid  !  Captain  Chester, 
of  all  men  !  Coming,  of  course,  to  see  papa,  and  papa  not  yet  down, 
and  mamma  had  a  headache  and  had  decided  not  to  come  down  at  all, 
she  would  breakfast  in  her  room.  What  girl  on  earth  when  looking 
and  longing  and  waiting  for  the  coming  of  a  graceful  youth  of  twenty- 
six  would  be  anything  but  dismayed  at  the  substitution  therefor  of  a 
bulky,  heavy-hearted  captain  of  forty-six,  no  matter  if  he  were  still 
unmarried  ?  And  yet  her  smile  was  sweet  and  cordial. 

"  Why,  good-morning,  Captain  Chester.  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you 
this  bright  day.  Do  come  in  and  let  me  give  you  a  rose.  Papa  will 
soon  be  down."  And  she  opened  the  gate  and  held  forth  one  long, 
slim  hand.  He  took  it  slowly,  as  though  in  a  dream,  raising  his  forage- 
cap at  the  same  time,  yet  making  no  reply.  He  was  looking  at  her  far 
more  closely  than  he  imagined.  How  fresh,  how  radiant,  how  fair  and 
gracious  and  winning !  Every  item  of  her  attire  was  so  pure  and  white 
and  spotless ;  every  fold  and  curve  of  her  gown  seemed  charged  with 
subtile,  delicate  fragrance,  as  faint  and  sweet  as  the  shy  and  modest  wood- 
violet's.  She  noted  his  silence  and  his  haggard  eyes.  She  noted  the 
intent  gaze,  and  the  color  mounted  straightway  to  her  forehead. 

"And  have  you  no  word  of  greeting  for  me?"  she  blithely  laughed, 
striving  to  break  through  the  awkwardness  of  his  reserve,  "  or  are  you 
worn  out  with  your  night  watch  as  officer  of  the  day  ?" 

He  fairly  started.  Had  she  seen  him,  then  ?  Did  she  know  it  was 
he  who  stood  beneath  her  window,  he  who  leaped  in  chase  of  that 
scoundrel,  he  who  stole  away  with  that  heavy  tell-tale  ladder?  and, 
knowing  all  this,  could  she  stand  there  smiling  in  his  face,  the  incarna- 
tion of  maiden  innocence  and  beauty?  Impossible!  Yet  what  could 
she  mean  ? 

"  How  did  you  know  I  had  so  long  a  vigil  ?"  he  asked,  and  the 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  219 

cold,  strained  tone,  the  half-averted  eyes,  the  pallor  of  his  face,  all 
struck  her  at  once.  Instantly  her  manner  changed  : 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,  captain.  I  see  you  are  all  worn  out ;  and  I'm 
keeping  you  here  at  the  gate.  Come  to  the  piazza  and  sit  down.  I'll 
tell  papa  you  are  here,  for  I  know  you  want  to  see  him."  And  she 
tripped  lightly  away  before  he  could  reply,  and  rustled  up  the  stairs. 
He  could  hear  her  light  tap  at  the  colonel's  door,  and  her  soft,  clear, 
flute-like  voice  :  "  Papa,  Captain  Chester  is  here  to  see  you." 

Papa  indeed !  She  spoke  to  him  and  of  him  as  though  he  were 
her  own.  He  treated  her  as  though  she  were  his  flesh  and  blood, 
— as  though  he  loved  her  devotedly.  Even  before  she  came  had  not 
they  been  prepared  for  this?  Did  not  Mrs.  Maynard  tell  them  that 
Alice  had  become  enthusiastically  devoted  to  her  step-father  and  con- 
sidered him  the  most  knightly  and  chivalric  hero  she  had  ever  seen  ? 
He  could  hear  the  colonel's  hearty  and  loving  tone  in  reply,  and  then 
she  came  fluttering  down  again : 

"  Papa  will  be  with  you  in  five  minutes,  captain.  But  won't  yuti  let 
me  give  you  some  coffee  ?  It's  all  ready,  and  you  look  so  tired, — even 

"  I  have  had  a  bad  night,"  he  answered,  "  but  I'm  growing  old,  and 
cannot  stand  sleeplessness  as  you  young  people  seem  to." 

Was  she  faltering?  He  watched  her  eagerly,  narrowly,  almost 
wonderingly.  Not  a  trace  of  confusion,  not  a  sign  of  fear;  and  yet 
had  he  not  seen  her,  and  that  other  figure  ? 

"  I  wish  you  could  sleep  as  I  do,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "  I  was 
in  the  land  of  dreams  ten  minutes  after  my  head  touched  the  pillow, 
and  mamma  made  me  come  home  early  last  night  because  of  our 
journey  to-day.  You  know  we  are  going  down  to  visit  Aunt  Grace, 
Colonel  Maynard's  sister,  at  Lake  Sablon,  and  mamma  wanted  me  to 
be  looking  my  freshest  and  best,"  she  said,  "  and  I  never  heard  a  thing 
till  reveille." 

His  eyes,  sad,  penetrating,  doubting, — yet  self-doubting,  too, — 
searched  her  very  soul.  Unflinchingly  the  dark  orbs  looked  into  his, — 
even  pityingly ;  for  she  quickly  spoke  again  : 

"  Captain,  do  come  into  the  breakfast-room  and  have  some  coffee. 
You  have  not  breakfasted,  I'm  sure." 

He  raised  his  hand  as  though  to  repel  her  offer, — even  to  put  her 
aside.  He  must  understand  her.  He  could  not  be  hoodwinked  in  this 
way. 


220  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Renwick,  but  did  you  hear  nothing  strange  last 
night  or  early  this  morning  ?  Were  you  not  disturbed  at  all  ?" 

"  I  ?  No,  indeed  !"  True,  her  face  had  changed  now,  but  there 
was  no  fear  in  her  eyes.  It  was  a  look  of  apprehension,  perhaps,  of 
concern  and  curiosity  mingled,  for  his  tone  betrayed  that  something 
had  happened  which  caused  him  agitation. 

"  And  you  heard  no  shots  fired  ?" 

"Shots!  No!  Oh,  Captain  Chester  I  what  does  it  mean?  Who 
was  shot?  Tellme!"^ 

And  now,  with  paling  face  and  wild  apprehension  in  her  eyes,  she 
turned  and  gazed  beyond  him,  past  the  vines  and  the  shady  veranda, 
across  the  sunshine  of  the  parade  and  under  the  old  piazza,  searching 
that  still  closed  and  darkened  window. 

"Who?"  she  implored,  her  hands  clasping  nervously,  her  eye& 
returning  eagerly  to  his  face. 

"  It  was  not  Mr.  Jerrold,"  he  answered,  coldly.  "  He  is  unhurt, 
so  far  as  shot  is  concerned." 

"  Then  how  is  he  hurt  ?  Is  he  hurt  at  all  ?"  she  persisted  ;  and 
then  as  she  met  his  gaze  her  eyes  fell,  and  the  burning  blush  of  maiden 
shame  surged  up  to  her  forehead.  She  sank  upon  a  seat  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  I  thought  of  Mr.  Jerrold,  naturally.  He  said  he  would  be  over 
early  this  morning,"  was  all  she  could  find  to  say. 

"  I  have  seen  him,  and  presume  he  will  come.  To  all  appearances, 
he  is  the  last  man  to  suffer  from  last  night's  affair,"  he  went  on,  relent- 
lessly,— almost  brutally, — but  she  never  winced.  "  It  is  odd  you  did 
not  hear  the  shots.  I  thought  yours  was  the  northwest  room, — this 
one?"  he  indicated,  pointing  overhead. 

"  So  it  is,  and  I  slept  there  all  last  night  and  heard  nothing, — not 
a  thing.  Do  tell  me  what  the  trouble  was." 

Then  what  was  there  for  him  to  say  ?  The  colonel's  footsteps  were 
heard  upon  the  stair,  and  the  colonel,  with  extended  hand  and  beaming 
face  and  cheery  welcome,  came  forth  from  the  open  door- way : 

"  Welcome,  Chester !  I'm  glad  you've  come  just  in  time  for  break- 
fast. Mrs.  Maynard  won't  be  down.  She  slept  badly  last  night,  and 
is  sleeping  now.  What  was  the  firing  last  night  ?  1  did  not  hear  it  at 
the  time,  but  the  orderly  and  old  Maria  the  cook  were  discussing  it  as 
I  was  shaving." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  221 

"  It  is  that  I  came  to  see  you  about,  colonel.  I  am  the  man  to  hold 
responsible." 

"  No  prisoners  got  away,  I  hope  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  Nothing,  I  fear,  that  would  seem  to  justify  my  action. 
I  ordered  Number  Five  to  fire." 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  could  have  happened  around  there, — almost 
back  of  us  ?"  said  the  colonel,  in  surprise. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  had  happened,  or  what  was  going  to  happen." 
And  Chester  paused  a  moment,  and  glanced  towards  the  door  through 
which  Miss  Renwick  had  retired  as  soon  as  the  colonel  arrived.  The 
old  soldier  seemed  to  understand  the  glance.  "  She  would  not  listen," 
he  said,  proudly. 

"  I  know,"  explained  Chester.  "  I  think  it  best  that  no  one  but  you 
should  hear  anything  of  the  matter  for  the  present  until  I  have  investi- 
gated further.  It  was  nearly  half-past  three  this  morning  as  I  got 
around  here  on  Five's  post,  inspecting  sentinels,  and  came  suddenly  in 
the  darkness  upon  a  man  carrying  a  ladder  on  his  shoulder.  I  ordered 
him  to  halt.  The  reply  was  a  violent  blow,  and  the  ladder  and  I  were 
dropped  at  the  same  instant,  while  the  man  sprang  into  space  and 
darted  off  in  the  direction  of  Number  Five.  I  followed  quick  as  I 
could,  heard  the  challenge  and  the  cries  of  halt,  and  shouted  to  Leary 
to  fire.  He  did,  but  missed  his  aim  in  the  haste  and  darkness,  and  the 
man  got  safely  away.  Of  course  there  is  much  talk  and  speculation 
about  it  around  the  post  this  morning,  for  several  people  heard  the 
shots  besides  the  guard,  and,  although  I  told  Leary  and  others  to  say 
nothing,  I  know  it  is  already  generally  known." 

"  Oh,  well,  come  in  to  breakfast,"  said  the  colonel.  "  We'll  talk  it 
over  there." 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  I  cannot.  I  must  get  back  home  before  guard- 
mount,  and  Rollins  is  probably  waiting  to  see  me  now.  I — I  could 
not  discuss  it  at  the  table,  for  there  are  some  singular  features  about 
the  matter." 

"  Why,  in  God's  name,  what  ?"  asked  the  colonel,  with  sudden  and 
deep  anxiety. 

"  Well,  sir,  an  officer  of  the  garrison  is  placed  in  a  compromising 
position  by  this  affair,  and  cannot  or  will  not  explain." 

"Who?" 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  sir." 

"  Jerrold !    Why,  I  got  a  note  from  him  not  ten  minutes  ago  saying 


222  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

he  had  an  engagement  in  town  and  asking  permission  to  go  before 
guard-mounting,  if  Mr.  Hall  was  ready.  Hall  wanted  to  go  with  him, 
Jerrold  wrote,  but  Hall  has  not  applied  for  permission  to  leave  the 
post" 

"  It  is  Jerrold  who  is  compromised,  colonel.  I  may  be  all  wrong 
in  my  suspicions,  all  wrong  in  reporting  the  matter  to  you  at  all,  but  in 
my  perplexity  and  distress  I  see  no  other  way.  Frankly,  sir,  the  mo- 
ment I  caught  sight  of  the  man  he  looked  like  Jerrold  •  and  two  minutes 
after  the  shots  were  fired  I  inspected  Jerrold's  quarters.  He  was  not 
there,  though  the  lamps  were  burning  very  low  in  the  bedroom,  and  his 
bed  had  not  been  occupied  at  all.  When  you  see  Leary,  sir,  he  will 
tell  you  that  he  also  thought  it  must  be  Mr.  Jerrold." 

"  The  young  scapegrace  ! — been  off  to  town,  I  suppose." 

"  Colonel,"  said  Chester,  quickly,  "  you — not  I — must  decide  that. 
I  went  to  his  quarters  after  reveille,  and  he  was  then  there,  and  resented 
my  visit  and  questions,  admitted  that  he  had  been  out  during  the  night, 
but  refused  to  make  any  statement  to  me." 

"  Well,  Chester,  I  will  haul  him  up  after  breakfast.  Possibly  he 
had  been  up  to  the  rifle-camp,  or  had  driven  to  town  after  the  doctor's 
party.  Of  course  that  must  be  stopped ;  but  I'm  glad  you  missed  him. 
It,  of  course,  staggers  a  man's  judgment  to  be  knocked  down,  but  if  you 
had  killed  him  it  might  have  been  as  serious  for  you  as  this  knock-down 
blow  will  be  for  him.  That  is  the  worst  phase  of  the  matter.  What 
could  he  have  been  thinking  of?  He  must  have  been  either  drunk  or 
mad ;  and  he  rarely  drank.  Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear,  but  that's  very  bad, 
— very  bad, — striking  the  officer  of  the  day  !  Why,  Chester,  that's  the 
worst  thing  that's  happened  in  the  regiment  since  I  took  command  of 
it.  It's  about  the  worst  thing  that  could  have  happened  to  us.  Of 
course  he  must  go  in  arrest.  I'll  see  the  adjutant  right  after  breakfast. 
I'll  be  over  early,  Chester."  And  with  grave  and  worried  face  the 
colonel  bade  him  adieu. 

As  he  turned  away,  Chester  heard  him  saying  again  to  himself, 
"  About  the  worst  thing  he  could  have  doue  ! — the  worst  thing  he  could 
have  done !"  And  the  captain's  heart  sank  within  him.  What  would 
the  colonel  say  when  he  knew  how  far,  far  worse  was  the  foul  wrong 
Mr.  Jerrold  had  done  to  him  and  his  ? 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  223 


VII. 

Before  guard-mounting — almost  half  an  hour  before  his  usual  time 
for  appearing  at  the  office — Colonel  Maynard  hurried  in  to  his  desk, 
sent  the  orderly  for  Captain  Chester,  and  then  the  clerks  in  the  ser- 
geant-major's room  heard  him  close  and  lock  the  door.  As  the  subject 
of  the  shooting  was  already  under  discussion  among  the  men  there 
assembled,  this  action  on  the  part  of  the  chief  was  considered  highly 
significant.  It  was  hardly  five  minutes  before  Chester  came,  looked 
surprised  at  finding  the  door  locked,  knocked,  and  was  admitted. 

The  look  on  the  haggard  face  at  the  desk,  the  dumb  misery  in  the 
eyes,  the  wrath  and  horror  in  it  all,  carried  him  back  twenty  years  to 
that  gloomy  morning  in  the  casemates  when  the  story  was  passed 
around  that  Captain  Maynard  had  lost  a  wife  and  an  intimate  friend 
during  the  previous  night.  Chester  saw  at  a  glance  that,  despite  his 
precautions,  the  blow  had  come,  the  truth  been  revealed  at  one  fell 
swoop. 

"Lock  the  door  again,  Chester,  and  come  here.  I  have  some 
questions  to  ask  you." 

The  captain  silently  took  the  chair  which  was  indicated  by  a  wave 
of  the  colonel's  hand,  and  waited.  For  a  moment  no  word  more  was 
spoken.  The  old  soldier,  white  and  trembling  strangely,  reseated  him- 
self at  the  desk,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  Twice  he  drew 
them  with  feebly  stroking  movement  over  his  eyes,  as  though  to  rally 
the  stunned  faculties  and  face  the  trying  ordeal.  Then  a  shiver  passed 
through  his  frame,  and  with  sudden  lift  of  the  head  he  fixed  his  gaze 
on  Chester's  face  and  launched  the  question, — 

"  Chester,  is  there  any  kindness  to  a  man  who  has  been  through 
what  I  have  in  telling  only  half  a  tale,  as  you  have  done  ?" 

The  captain  colored  red.  "  I  am  at  a  loss  to  answer  you,  colonel," 
he  said,  after  brief  reflection.  "  You  know  far  more  than  you  did  half 
an  hour  ago,  and  what  I  knew  I  could  not  bear  to  tell  you  as  yet." 

"  My  God !  my  God !  Tell  me  all,  and  tell  me  at  once.  Here, 
man,  if  you  need  stimulant  to  your  indignation  and  cannot  speak  with- 
out it,  read  this.  I  found  it,  open,  among  the  rose-bushes  in  the  gar- 
den, where  she  must  have  dropped  it  when  out  there  with  you.  Read 
it.  Tell  me  what  it  means ;  for,  God  knows,  I  can't  believe  such  a 
thing  of  her." 

He  handed  Chester  a  sheet  of  note-paper.   It  was  moist  and  blurred 


224  FROM  TEE  RANKS. 

on  the  first  page,  but  the  inner  pages,  though  damp,  were  in  good  con- 
dition.  The  first,  second,  and  third  pages  were  closely  covered  hi  a 
bold,  nervous  hand  that  Chester  knew  well.  It  was  Jerrold's  writing, 
beyond  a  doubt,  and  Chester's  face  grew  hot  as  he  read,  and  his  heart 
tcrned  cold  as  stone  when  he  finished  the  last  hurried  line. 

"  MY  DAKLING, — 

"  I  must  see  you,  if  only  for  a  moment,  before  you  leave.  Do  not 
let  this  alarm  you,  for  the  more  I  think  the  more  I  am  convinced  it  is 
only  a  bluff,  but  Captain  Chester  discovered  my  absence  early  this 
morning  when  spying  around  as  usual,  and  now  he  claims  to  have 
knowledge  of  our  secret.  Even  if  he  was  on  the  terrace  when  I  got 
back,  it  was  too  dark  for  him  to  recognize  me,  and  it  seems  impossible 
that  he  can  have  got  any  real  clue.  He  suspects,  perhaps,  and  thinks 
to  force  me  to  confession ;  but  I  would  guard  your  name  with  my  life. 
Be  wary.  Act  as  though  there  were  nothing  on  earth  between  us,  and 
if  we  cannot  meet  until  then  I  will  be  at  the  d6p6t  with  the  others  to 
see  you  off,  and  will  then  have  a  letter  ready  with  full  particulars 
and  instructions.  It  will  be  in  the  first  thing  I  hand  to  you.  Hide  it 
until  you  can  safely  read  it.  Your  mother  must  not  be  allowed  a 
glimmer  of  suspicion,  and  then  you  are  safe.  As  for  me,  even  Chester 
cannot  make  the  colonel  turn  against  me  now.  My  jealous  one,  my 
fiery  sweetheart,  do  you  not  realize  now  that  I  was  wise  in  showing  her 
so  much  attention  ?  A  thousand  kisses.  Come  what  may,  they  cannot 
rob  us  of  the  past.  HOWAJU). 

"  I  fear  you  heard  and  were  alarmed  by  the  shots  just  after  I  left 
you.  All  was  quiet  when  I  got  home." 

It  was  some  seconds  before  Chester  could  control  himself  suf- 
ficiently to  speak.  "  I  wish  to  God  the  bullet  had  gone  through  his 
heart!"  he  said. 

"  It  has  gone  through  mine, — through  mine !  This  will  kill  her 
mother.  Chester,"  cried  the  colonel,  springing  suddenly  to  his  feet, 
"  she  must  not  know  it.  She  must  not  dream  of  it.  I  tell  you  it 
would  stretch  her  in  the  dust,  dead,  for  she  loves  that  child  with  all  her 
strength,  with  all  her  being,  I  believe,  for  it  is  two  mother-loves  in  one. 
She  had  a  son,  older  than  Alice  by  several  years,  her  first-born, — her 
glory,  he  was, — but  the  boy  inherited  the  father's  passionate  and  im- 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  225 

pulsive  nature.  He  loved  a  girl  utterly  beneath  him,  and  would  have 
married  her  when  he  was  only  twenty.  There  is  no  question  that  he 
loved  her  well,  for  he  refused  to  give  her  up,  no  matter  what  his  father 
threatened.  They  tried  to  buy  her  off,  and  she  scorned  them.  Then 
they  had  a  letter  written,  while  he  was  sent  abroad  under  pretence  that 
he  should  have  his  will  if  he  came  back  in  a  year  unchanged.  By  Jove, 
it  seems  she  was  as  much  in  love  as  he,  and  it  broke  her  heart.  She 
•iwent  off  and  died  somewhere,  and  he  came  back  ahead  of  time  because 
?her  letters  had  ceased,  and  found  it  all  out.  There  was  an  awful  scene. 
'He  cursed  them  both, — father  and  mother, — and  left  her  senseless  at 
his  feet;  and  from  that  day  to  this  they  never  heard  of  him,  never 
could  get  the  faintest  report.  It  broke  Ren  wick, — killed  him,  I  guess 
for  he  died  in  two  years ;  and  as  for  the  mother,  you  would  not  think 
that  a  woman  so  apparently  full  of  life  and  health  was  in  desperate 
danger.  She  had  some  organic  trouble  with  the  heart  years  ago,  they 
tell  her,  and  this  experience  has  developed  it  so  that  now  any  great  emo- 
tion or  sudden  shock  is  perilous.  Do  you  not  see  how  doubly  fearful 
this  comes  to  us  ?  Chester,  I  have  weathered  one  awful  storm,  but  I'm 
old  and  broken  now.  This — this  beats  me.  Tell  me  what  to  do." 

The  captain  was  silent  a  few  moments.     He  was  thinking  intently. 

"  Does  she  know  you  have  that  letter  ?"  he  asked. 

Maynard  shook  his  head :  "  I  looked  back  as  I  came  away.  She 
was  in  the  parlor,  singing  softly  to  herself,  at  the  very  moment  I 
picked  it  up,  lying  open  as  it  was  right  there  among  the  roses,  the  first 
words  staring  me  in  the  face.  I  meant  not  to  read  it, — never  dreamed 
it  was  for  her, — and  had  turned  over  the  page  to  look  for  the  super- 
scription. There  was  none,  but  there  I  saw  the  signature  and  that 
postscript  about  the  shots.  That  startled  me,  and  I  read  it  here  just 
before  you  came,  and  then  could  account  for  your  conduct, — something 
I  could  not  do  before.  God  of  heaven  !  would  any  man  believe  it  of 
her  ?  It  is  incredible  !  Chester,  tell  me  -everything  you  know  now, — 
even  everything  you  suspect.  I  must  see  ray  way  clear." 

And  then  the  captain,  with  halting  and  reluctant  tongue,  told  his 
story :  how  he  had  stumbled  on  the  ladder  back  of  the  colonel's 
quarters  and  learned  from  Number  Five  that  some  one  had  been  prowl- 
ing back  of  Bachelors'  Eow  ;  how  he  returned  thtre  afterwards,  found 
the  ladder  at  the  side-wall,  and  saw  the  tall  form  issue  from  her  win- 
dow ;  how  he  had  given  chase  and  been  knocked  bxeathle«aj  <«d  of  his 
suspicions,  and  Leary's,  as  to  the  identity 


226  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

The  colonel  bowed  his  head  still  deeper,  and  groaned  aloud.  But 
he  had  still  other  questions  to  ask. 

"  Did  you  see — any  one  else  at  the  window  ?" 

"Not  while  he  was  there." 

"At  any  time,  then, — before  or  after?"  And  the  colonel's  eyes 
would  take  no  denial. 

"  I  saw,"  faltered  "Chester,  "  nobody.  The  shade  was  pulled  up 
while  I  was  standing  there,  after  I  had  tripped  on  the  ladder.  I  sup- 
posed the  noise  of  my  stumble  had  awakened  her." 

"  And  was  that  all  ?    Did  you  see  nothing  more  ?" 

"  Colonel,  I  did  see,  afterwards,  a  woman's  hand  and  arm  closing 
the  shade." 

"  My  God  !  And  she  told  me  she  slept  the  night  through, — never 
waked  or  heard  a  sound  !" 

"  Did  you  hear  nothing  yourself,  colonel  ?" 

"  Nothing.  When  she  came  home  from  the  party  she  stopped  a 
moment,  saying  something  to  him  at  the  door,  then  came  into  the 
library  and  kissed  me  good-night.  I  shut  up  the  house  and  went 
to  bed  about  half-past  twelve,  and  her  door  was  closed  when  I  went  to 
our  room." 

"  So  there  were  two  closed  doors,  yours  and  hers,  and  the  broad  hall 
between  you  ?" 

"  Certainly.  We  have  the  doors  open  all  night  that  lead  into  the 
rear  rooms,  and  their  windows.  This  gives  us  abundant  air.  Alice 
always  has  the  hall  door  closed  at  night." 

"  And  Mrs.  Maynard, — was  she  asleep  ?" 

"  No.  Mrs.  Maynard  was  lying  awake,  and  seemed  a  little  restless 
and  disturbed.  Some  of  the  women  had  been  giving  her  some  hints 
about  Jerrold  and  fretting  her.  You  know  she  took  a  strange  fancy  to 
him  at  the  start.  It  was  simply  because  he  reminded  her  so  strongly 
of  the  boy  she  had  lost.  She  told  me  so.  But  after  a  little  she  began 
to  discover  traits  in  him  she  did  not  like,  and  then  his  growing  in- 
timacy with  Alice  worried  her.  She  would  have  put  a  stop  to  the  doc- 
tor's party, — to  her  going  with  him,  I  mean, — but  the  engagement  was 
made  eom€  days  ago.  Two  or  three  days  since,  she  warned  Alice  not 
to  trust  him,  she  says ;  and  it  is  really  as  much  on  this  as  any  other 
account  that  we  decided  to  get  her  away,  off  to  see  her  aunt  Grace. 
Oh,  God!  how  blind  we  are!  how  blind  we  are!"  And  poor  old 
Maynard  bowed  his  head  and  almost  groaned  aloud. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  227 

Chester  rose,  and,  in  his  characteristic  way,  began  tramping  ner- 
vously up  and  down.  There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  "  The  adjutant's 
compliments,  and  'twas  time  for  guard-mount.  Would  the  colonel 
wish  to  see  him  before  he  went  out  ?"  asked  the  orderly. 

"  I  ought  to  go,  sir,"  said  Chester.  "  I  am  old  officer  of  the  day, 
and  there  will  be  just  time  for  me  to  get  into  full  uniform." 

"  Let  them  go  on  without  you,"  said  Maynard.  "  I  cannot  spare 
you  now.  Send  word  to  that  effect.  Now, — now  about  this  man, — 
this  Jerrold.  What  is  the  best  thing  we  can  do? — of  course  I  know 
what  he  most  deserves ; — but  what  is  the  bed  thing  under  all  the  circum-  * 
stances  ?  Of  course  my  wife  and  Alice  will  leave  to-day.  She  was  still 
sleeping  when  I  left,  and,  pray  God,  is  not  dreaming  of  this.  It  was 
nearly  two  before  she  closed  her  eyes  last  night;  and  I,  too,  slept 
badly.  You  have  seen  him.  What  does  he  say  ?" 

"Denies  everything, — anything,— challenges  me  to  prove  that  he 
was  absent  from  his  house  more  than  five  minutes, — indeed,  I  could 
not,  for  he  may  have  come  in  just  after  I  left, — and  pretended  utter 
ignorance  of  my  meaning  when  I  accused  him  of  striking  me  before  I 
ordered  the  sentry  to  fire.  Of  course  it  is  all  useless  now.  When  I 
confront  him  with  this  letter  he  must  give  in.  Then  let  him  resign  and 
get  away  as  quietly  as  possible  before  the  end  of  the  week.  No  one 
need  know  the  causes.  Of  course  shooting  is  what  he  deserves ;  but 
shooting  demands  explanation.  It  is  better  for  your  name,  hers,  and 
all,  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  live  than  that  the  truth  were  sus- 
pected, as  it  would  be  if  he  were  killed.  Indeed,  sir,  if  I  were  you  I 
would  take  them  to  Sablon,  keep  them  away  for  a  fortnight,  and  leave 
him  to  me.  It  may  be  even  judicious  to  let  him  go  on  with  all  his 
duties  as  though  nothing  had  happened,  as  though  he  had  simply  been 
absent  from  reveille,  and  let  the  whole  matter  drop  like  that  until  all 
remark  and  curiosity  is  lulled ;  then  you  can  send  her  back  to  Europe 
or  the  East, — time  enough  to  decide  on  that ;  but  I  will  privately  tell 
him  he  must  quit  the  service  in  six  months,  and  show  him  why.  It 
isn't  the  way  it  ought  to  be  settled  ;  it  probably  isn't  the  way  Armitage 
would  do  it ;  but  it  is  the  best  thing  that  occurs  to  me.  One  thing  is 
certain :  you  and  they  ought  to  get  away  at  once,  and  he  should  not  be 
permitted  to  see  her  again.  I  can  run  the  post  a  few  days  and  explain 
matters  after  you  go." 

The  colonel  sat  in  wretched  silence  a  few  moments ;  then  he  arose : 

"  If  it  were  not  for  her  danger, — her  heart, — I  would  never  drop 


228  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

the  matter  here, — never !  I  would  see  it  through  to  the  bittev  end. 
But  you  are  probably  right  as  to  the  prudent  course  to  take.  Pll  get 
them  away  on  the  noon  train :  he  thinks  they  do  not  start  until  later. 
Now  I  must  go  and  face  it.  My  God,  Chester  !  could  you  look  at  that 
child  and  realize  it?  Even  now,  even  now,  sir,  I  believe — I  believe, 
someway — somehow — she  is  innocent." 

"  God  grant  it,  sir !" 

And  then  the  colonel  left  the  office,  avoiding,  as  has  been  told,  a 
word  with  any  man.  Chester  buttoned  the  tell-tale  letter  in  an  inner 
pocket,  after  having  first  folded  the  sheet  lengthwise  and  then  enclosed 
it  in  a  long  official  envelope.  The  officers,  wondering  at  the  colonel's 
distraught  appearance,  had  come  thronging  in,  hoping  for  information, 
and  then  had  gone,  unsatisfied  and  disgusted,  practically  turned  out  by 
their  crabbed  senior  captain.  The  ladies,  after  chatting  aimlessly  about 
the  quadrangle  for  half  an  hour,  had  decided  that  Mrs.  Maynard  must 
be  ill,  and,  while  most  of  them  awaited  the  result,  two  of  their  number 
went  to  the  colonel's  house  and  rang  at  the  bell.  A  servant  appeared  : 
"  Mrs.  Maynard  wasn't  very  well  this  morning,  and  was  breakfasting 
in  her  room,  and  Miss  Alice  was  with  her,  if  the  ladies  would  please 
excuse  them."  And  so  the  emissaries  returned  unsuccessful.  Then, 
too,  as  we  have  seen,  despite  his  good  intention  of  keeping  matters 
hushed  as  much  as  possible,  Chester's  nervous  irritability  had  got  the 
better  of  him,  and  he  had  made  damaging  admissions  to  Wilton  of 
the  existence  of  a  cause  of  worriment  and  perplexity,  and  this  Wilton 
told  without  compunction.  And  then  there  was  another  excitement, 
that  set  all  tongues  wagging.  Every  man  had  heard  what  Chester  said, 
that  Mr.  Jerrold  must  not  quit  the  garrison  until  he  had  first  come  and 
seen  the  temporary  commanding  officer,  and  Hall  had  speedily  carried 
the  news  to  his  friend. 

"Are  you  ready  to  go?"  asked  Mr.  Jerrold,  who  was  lacing  his 
boots  in  the  rear  room. 

"  No.     I've  got  to  go  and  get  into  '  cits'  first." 

"  All  right.  Go,  and  be  lively !  I'll  wait  for  you  at  Murphy's, 
beyond  the  bridge,  provided  you  say  nothing  about  it." 

"  You  don't  mean  you  are  going  against  orders  ?" 

"  Going  ?  Of  course  I  am.  I've  got  old  Maynard's  permission, 
and  if  Chester  means  to  revoke  it  he's  got  to  get  his  adjutant  here  inside 
of  ten  seconds.  What  you  tell  me  isn't  official.  I'm  off  now  /" 

And  when  the  adjutant  returned  to  Captain  Chester  it  was  with  th* 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  229 

information  that  he  was  too  late :  Mr.  Jerrold's  dog-cart  had  crossed 
the  bridge  five  minutes  earlier. 

Perhaps  an  hour  later  the  colonel  sent  for  Chester,  and  the  captain 
went  to  his  house.  The  old  soldier  was  pacing  slowly  up  and  down  the 
parlor  floor. 

"  I  wanted  you  a  moment.  A  singular  thing  has  happened.  You 
know  that  *  Directoire'  cabinet  photo  of  Alice  ?  My  wife  always  kept 
it  on  her  dressing-table,  and  this  morning  it's  gone.  That  frame — the 
silver  filigree  thing — was  found  behind  a  sofa-pillow  in  Alice's  room, 
and  she  declares  she  has  no  idea  how  it  got  there.  Chester,  is  there 
any  new  significance  in  this  ?" 

The  captain  bowed  assent. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  That  photograph  was  seen  by  Major  Sloat  in  Jerrold's  bureau- 
drawer  at  reveille  this  morning." 

And  such  was  the  situation  at  Sibley  the  August  day  the  colonel 
took  his  wife  and  her  lovely  daughter  to  visit  Aunt  Grace  at  Lake 
Sablon. 

VIII. 

In  the  big  red  omnibus  that  was  slowly  toiling  over  the  dusty  road 
several  passengers  were  making  their  way  from  the  railway-station  to 
the  hotel  at  Lake  Sablon.  Two  of  them  were  women  of  mature  years, 
whose  dress  and  bearing  betokened  lives  of  ease  and  comfort ;  another 
was  a  lovely  brunette  of  less  than  twenty,  the  daughter,  evidently,  of 
one  of  these  ladies,  and  an  object  of  loving  pride  to  both.  These  three 
seemed  at  home  in  their  surroundings,  and  were  absorbed  in  the  packet 
of  letters  and  papers  they  had  just  received  at  the  station.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  they  were  not  new  arrivals,  as  were  the  other  passengers,  who 
studied  them  with  the  half-envious  feelings  with  which  new-comers  at 
a  summer  resort  are  apt  to  regard  those  who  seem  to  have  been  long 
established  there,  and  who  gathered  from  the  scraps  of  conversation 
that  they  had  merely  been  over  to  say  good-by  to  friends  leaving  on  the 
very  train  which  brought  in  the  rest  of  what  we  good  Americans  term 
"the  'bus-load."  There  were  women  among  the  newly-arrived  who 
inspected  the  dark  girl  with  that  calm,  unflinching,  impertinent  scrutiny 
and  half-audibly  whispered  comment  which,  had  they  been  of  the  oppo- 
site sex,  would  have  warranted  their  being  kicked  out  of  the  conveyance, 
but  which  was  ignored  by  the  fair  object  and  her  friends  as  completely 

20 


230  FROM  THE  BANKS. 

as  were  the  commentators  themselves.  There  were  one  or  two  men  in 
the  omnibus  who  might  readily  have  been  forgiven  an  admiring  glance 
or  two  at  so  bright  a  vision  of  girlish  beauty  as  was  Miss  Renwick  this 
August  afternoon,  and  they  had  looked  ;  but  the  one  who  most  attracted 
the  notice  of  Mrs.  Maynard  and  Aunt  Grace — a  tatl,  stalwart,  dis- 
tinguished-looking party  in  gray  travelling-dress — had  taken  his  seat 
close  to  the  door  and  was  deep  in  the  morning's  paper  before  they  were 
fairly  away  from  the  station. 

Laying  down  the  letter  she  had  just  finished  reading,  Mrs.  Maynard 
glanced  at  her  daughter,  who  was  still  engaged  in  one  of  her  own,  and 
evidently  with  deep  interest. 

"From  Fort  Sibley,  Alice?" 

"Yes,  mamma,  all  three, — Miss  Craven,  Mrs.  Hoyt,  and — Mr. 
Jerrold.  Would  you  like  to  see  it  ?"  And,  with  rising  color,  she  held 
forth  the  one  in  her  hand. 

"  Not  now,"  was  the  answer,  with  a  smile  that  told  of  confidence 
and  gratification  both.  "  It  is  about  the  gerinan,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yes.  He  thinks  it  outrageous  that  we  should  not  be  there, — says 
it  is  to  be  the  prettiest  ever  given  at  the  fort,  and  that  Mrs.  Hoyt  and 
Mrs.  Craven,  who  are  the  managers  for  the  ladies,  had  asked  him  to 
lead.  He  wants  to  know  if  we  cannot  possibly  come." 

"  Are  you  not  very  eager  to  go,  Alice  ?  I  should  be,"  said  Aunt 
Grace,  with  sympathetic  interest. 

"  Yes,  I  am,  answered  Miss  Renwick,  reflectively.  "  It  had  been 
arranged  that  it  should  come  off  next  week,  when,  as  was  supposed,  we 
would  be  home  after  this  visit.  It  cannot  be  postponed,  of  course, 
because  it  is  given  in  honor  of  all  the  officers  who  are  gathered  there 
for  the  rifle-competition,  and  that  will  be  all  over  and  done  with  to-day, 
and  they  cannot  stay  beyond  Tuesday  next.  We  must  give  it  up, 
auntie,"  and  she  looked  up  smilingly,  "and  you  have  made  it  so 
lovely  for  me  here  that  I  can  do  it  without  a  sigh.  Think  of  that ! — 
an  army  german  ! — and  Fanny  Craven  says  the  favors  are  to  be  simply 
lovely.  Yes,  I  did  want  to  go,  but  papa  said  he  felt  unequal  to  it  the 
moment  he  got  back  from  Chicago,  day  before  yesterday,  and  he  cer- 
tainly does  not  look  at  all  well :  so  that  ended  it,  arid  I  wrote  at  once 
to  Mrs.  Hoyt.  This  is  her  answer  now." 

"  What  does  she  say  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  kind  of  her :  she  wants  me  to  come  and  be  her 
guest  if  the  colonel  is  too  ill  to  come  and  mamma  will  not  leave  him. 


FROM  THE  RANKS,  231 

She  says  Mr.  Hoyt  will  come  down  and  escort  me.  But  I  would  not 
like  to  go  without  mamma,"  and  the  big  dark  eyes  looked  up  wistfully, 
"  and  I  know  she  does  not  care  to  urge  papa  when  he  seems  so  indis- 
posed to  going." 

Mrs.  Maynard's  eyes  were  anxious  and  troubled  now.  She  turned 
to  her  sister-in-law : 

"  Do  you  think  he  seems  any  better,  Grace?    I  do  not." 

"  It  is  hard  to  say.  He  was  so  nervously  anxious  to  get  away  to 
see  the  general  the  very  day  you  arrived  here  that  there  was  not  a 
moment  in  which  I  could  ask  him  about  himself;  and  since  his  return 
he  has  avoided  all  mention  of  it  beyond  saying  it  is  nothing  but  indi- 
gestion and  he  would  be  all  right  in  a  few  days.  I  never  knew  him  to 
suffer  in  that  way  in  my  life.  Is  there  any  regimental  matter  that  can 
be  troubling  him  ?"  she  asked,  in  lower  tone. 

"Nothing  of  any  consequence  whatever.  Of  course  the  officers 
feel  chagrined  over  their  defeat  in  the  rifle-match.  They  had  expected 
to  stand  very  high,  but  Mr.  Jerrold's  shooting  was  unexpectedly  below 
the  average,  and  it  threw  their  team  behind.  But  the  colonel  didn't 
make  the  faintest  allusion  to  it.  That  hasn't  worried  him  anywhere 
near  as  much  as  it  has  the  others,  I  should  judge." 

"I  do  not  think  it  was  all  Mr.  Jerrold's  fault,  mamma,"  said 
Miss  Renwick,  with  gentle  reproach  and  a  very  becoming  flush.  "  I'm 
going  to  stand  up  for  him,  because  I  think  they  all  blame  him  for 
other  men's  poor  work.  He  was  not  the  only  one  on  our  team  whose 
Bhooting  was  below  former  scores." 

"  They  claim  that  none  fell  so  far  below  their  expectations  as 
Alice.     You  know  I  am  no  judge  of  such  matters,  but  Mr.  Hoyt  a 
Captain  Gray  both  write  the  colonel  that  Mr.  Jerrold  had  been  taking 
no  care  of  himself  whatever  and  was  entirely  out  of  form." 

"  In  any  event  I'm  glad  the  cavalry  did  no  better,"  was  Miss  Ren- 
wick's  loyal  response.  "  You  remember  the  evening  we  rode  out  to 
the  range  and  Captain  Gray  said  that  there  was  the  man  who  would 
win  the  first  prize  from  Mr.  Jerrold, — that  tall  cavalry  sergeant  who 
fainted  away, — Sergeant  McLeod ;  don't  you  remember,  mother  ? 
Well,  he  did  not  even  get  a  place,  and  Mr.  Jerrold  beat  him  easily." 

Something  in  her  mother's  eyes  warned  her  to  be  guarded,  and,  in 
that  indefinable  but  unerring  system  of  feminine  telegraphy,  called  her 
attention  to  the  man  sitting  by  the  door.  Looking  quickly  to  her 
right,  Miss  Renwick  saw  that  he  was  intently  regarding  her.  At  the 


232  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

mention  of  Fort  Sibley  the  stranger  had  lowered  his  paper,  revealing 
a  bronzed  face  clean-shaven  except  for  the  thick  blonde  moustache, 
and  a  pair  of  clear,  steady,  searching  blue  eyes  under  heavy  brows 
and  lashes,  and  these  eyes  were  very  deliberately  yet  respectfully  fixed 
upon  her  own ;  nor  were  they  withdrawn  in  proper  confusion  when 
detected.  It  was  Miss  Renwick  whose  eyes  gave  up  the  contest  and 
returned  in  some  sense  of  defeat  to  her  mother's  face. 
.  "What  letters  have  you  for  the  colonel?"  asked  Mrs.  Maynard, 
coming  au  secowrs. 

"  Three, — two  of  them  from  his  devoted  henchman  Captain  Chester, 
who  writes  by  every  mail,  I  should  imagine ;  and  these  he  will  go  off 
into  some  secluded  nook  with  and  come  back  looking  blue  and  worried. 
Then  here's  another,  forwarded  from  Sibley,  too.  I  do  not  know  thi? 
hand.  Perhaps  it  is  from  Captain  Armitage,  who,  they  say,  is  to  come 
back  next  month.  Poor  Mr.  Jerrold  !" 

"  Why  poor  Mr.  Jerrold  ?"  asked  Aunt  Grace,  with  laughing  in- 
terest, as  she  noted  the  expression  on  her  niece's  pretty  face. 

"  Because  he  can't  bear  Captain  Armitage,  and " 

"Now,  Alice !"  said  her  mother,  reprovingly.  "  You  must  not  take 
nis  view  of  the  captain  at  all.  Remember  what  the  colonel  said  of 
him " 

"  Mother  dear,"  protested  Alice,  laughing,  "  I  have  no  doubt  Cap- 
tain Armitage  is  the  paragon  of  a  soldier,  but  he  is  unquestionably  a 
most  unpleasant  and  ungentlemanly  person  in  his  conduct  to  the  young 
officers.  Mr.  Hall  has  told  me  the  same  thing.  I  declare,  I  don't  see 
how  they  can  speak  to  him  at  all,  he  has  been  so  harsh  and  discourteous 
and  unjust."  The  color  was  rising  in  earnest  now,  but  a  warning  glance 
in  her  mother's  eye  seemed  to  check  further  words.  There  was  an  in- 
stant's silence.  Then  Aunt  Grace  remarked, — 

"  Alice,  your  next-door  neighbor  has  vanished.  I  think  your  vehe- 
mence has  frightened  him." 

Surely  enough,  the  big,  blue-eyed  man  in  tweeds  had  disappeared. 
During  this  brief  controversy  he  had  quickly  and  noiselessly  let  him- 
self out  of  the  open  door,  swung  lightly  to  the  ground,  and  was  out  of 
sight  among  the  trees. 

"Why,  what  a  strange  proceeding!"  said  Aunt  Grace  again. 
"  We  are  fully  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  hotel,  and  he  means  to  walk 
it  in  this  glaring  sun." 

Evidently  he  did.    The  driver  reined  up  at  the  moment  in  response 


FROM  THE  BANKS.  233 

to  a  suggestion  from  some  one  in  a  forward  seat,  and  there  suddenly  ap- 
peared by  the  wayside,  striding  out  from  the  shelter  of  the  sumachs,  the 
athletic  figure  of  the  stranger. 

"Go  ahead!"  he  called,  in  a  deep  chest-voice  that  had  an  unmis- 
takable ring  to  it, — the  tone  that  one  so  readily  recognizes  in  men 
accustomed  to  prompt  action  and  command.  "  I'm  going  across  lots." 
And,  swinging  his  heavy  stick,  with  quick,  elastic  steps  and  erect  car- 
riage the  man  in  gray  plunged  into  a  wood-path  and  was  gone. 

"  Alice,"  said  Aunt  Grace,  again,  "  that  man  is  an  officer,  I'm  sure, 
and  you  have  driven  him  into  exile  and  lonely  wandering.  I've  seen 
so  much  of  them  when  visiting  my  brother  in  the  old  days  before  my 
marriage  that  even  in  civilian  dress  it  is  easy  to  tell  some  of  them. 
Just  look  at  that  back,  and  those  shoulders  I  He  has  been  a  soldier  all 
his  life.  Horrors  !  suppose  it  should  be  Captain  Armitage  himself!" 

Miss  Renwick  looked  genuinely  distressed,  as  well  as  vexed.  Cer- 
tainly no  officer  but  Captain  Armitage  would  have  had  reason  to  leave 
the  stage.  Certainly  officers  and  their  families  occasionally  visited 
Sablon  in  the  summer-time,  but  Captain  Armitage  could  hardly  be 
here.  There  was  comforting  assurance  in  the  very  note  she  held  in 
her  hand. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  she  said,  "  because  Mr.  Jerrold  writes  that  they 
have  just  heard  from  him  at  Sibley.  He  is  still  at  the  sea-shore,  and 
will  not  return  for  a  month.  Mr.  Jerrold  says  he  implored  Captain 
Chester  to  let  him  have  three  days'  leave  to  come  down  here  and  have 
a  sail  and  a  picnic  with  us,  and  was  told  that  it  would  be  out  of  the 
question." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  any  other  news  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Maynard,  looking 
up  from  her  letter  again, — "  anything  about  the  german  ?" 

"  He  says  he  thinks  it  a  shame  we  are  to  be  away  and — well,  read 
it  yourself."  And  she  placed  it  in  her  mother's  hands,  the  dark  eyes 
seriously,  anxiously  studying  her  face  as  she  read.  Presently  Mrs. 
Maynard  laid  it  down  and  looked  again  into  her  own,  then,  pointing  to 
a  certain  passage  with  her  finger,  handed  it  to  her  daughter. 

"  Men  were  deceivers  ever,"  she  said,  laughing,  yet  oracularly 
significant. 

And  Alice  Renwick  could  not  quite  control  the  start  with  which 
she  read, — 

"  Mr.  Jerrold  is  to  lead  with  his  old  love,  Nina  Beaubien.  They 
20* 


234  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

make  a  capital  pair,  and  she,  of  course,  will  be  radiant — with  Alice  out 
of  the  way." 

"  That  is  something  Mr.  Jerrold  failed  to  mention,  is  it  not  ?" 

Miss  Kenwick's  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  the  dark  eyes  were  filled 
with  sudden  pain,  as  she  answered, — 

"I  did  not  know  she  was  there.  She  was  to  have  gone  to  the 
Lakes  the  same  day  we  left." 

"  She  did  go,  Alice,"  said  her  mother,  quietly,  "  but  it  was  only  for 
a  brief  visit,  it  seems." 

The  colonel  was  not  at  their  cottage  when  the  omnibus  reached  the 
lake.  Over  at  the  hotel  were  the  usual  number  of  loungers  gathered  to 
see  the  new  arrivals,  and  Alice  presently  caught  sight  of  the  colonel 
coming  through  the  park.  If  anything,  he  looked  more  listless  and 
dispirited  than  he  had  before  they  left.  She  ran  down  the  steps  to 
meet  him,  smiling  brightly  up  into  his  worn  and  haggard  face. 

"Are  you  feeling  a  little  brighter,  papa?  Here  are  letters  for 
you." 

He  took  them  wearily,  barely  glancing  at  the  superscriptions. 

"  I  had  hoped  for  something  more,"  he  said,  and  passed  on  into  the 
little  frame  house  which  was  his  sister's  summer  home.  "Is  your 
mother  here  ?"  he  asked,  looking  back  as  he  entered  the  door. 

"  In  the  north  room,  with  Aunt  Grace,  papa,"  she  answered ;  and 
then  once  more  and  with  graver  face  she  began  to  read  Mr.  Jerrold's 
letter.  It  was  a  careful  study  she  was  making  of  it  this  time,  and  not 
altogether  a  pleasant  one.  Aunt  Grace  came  out  and  made  some  laugh- 
ing remark  at  seeing  her  still  so  occupied.  She  looked  up,  pluckily 
smiling  despite  a  sense  of  wounded  pride,  and  answered, — 

"  I  am  only  convincing  myself  that  it  was  purely  on  genera)  prin- 
ciples that  Mr.  Jerrold  seemed  so  anxious  I  should  be  there.  He  never 
wanted  me  to  lead  with  him  at  all."  All  the  same  it  stung,  and  A.unt 
Grace  saw  and  knew  it,  and  longed  to  take  her  to  her  heart  and  com- 
fort her ;  but  it  was  better  so.  She  was  finding  him  out  unaided. 

She  was  still  studying  over  portions  of  that  ingenious  lettei ,  when 
the  rustle  of  her  aunt's  gown  indicated  that  she  was  rising.  She  saw 
her  move  towards  the  steps,  heard  a  quick,  firm  tread  upon  the  narrow 
planking,  and  glanced  up  in  surprise.  There,  uncovering  his  close- 
cropped  head,  stood  the  tall  stranger,  looking  placidly  up  as  he  addressed 
Aunt  Grace : 

"  Pardon  me,  i^an  I  see  Colonel  Maynard  ?" 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  235 

"  He  is  at  home.  Pray  come  up  and  take  a  chair.  I  will  let  him 
know.  I — I  felt  sure  you  must  be  some  friend  of  his  when  I  saw  you 
in  the  stage,"  said  the  good  lady,  with  manifest  and  apologetic  uneasiness. 

"Yes,"  responded  the  stranger,  as  he  quickly  ascended  the  steps 
and  bowed  before  her,  smiling  quietly  the  while.  "  Let  me  intro- 
duce myself.  I  am  Captain  Armitage,  of  the  colonel's  regiment." 

"  There !  I  knew  it !"  was  Aunt  Grace's  response,  as  with  both 
hands  uplifted  in  tragic  despair  she  gave  one  horror-stricken  glance  at 
Alice  and  rushed  into  the  house. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence ;  then,  with  burning  cheeks,  but 
with  brave  eyes  that  looked  frankly  into  his,  Alice  Eenwick  arose, 
came  straight  up  to  him,  and  held  out  her  pretty  hand. 

"  Captain  Armitage,  I  beg  your  pardon." 

He  took  the  extended  hand  and  gazed  earnestly  into  her  face,  while 
a  kind — almost  merry — smile  lighted  up  his  own. 

"  Have  the  boys  given  me  such  an  uncanny  reputation  as  all  that  ?" 
he  asked ;  and  then,  as  though  tickled  with  the  comicality  of  the  situ- 
ation, he  began  to  laugh.  "  What  ogres  some  of  us  old  soldiers  do 
become  in  the  course  of  years  !  Do  you  know,  young  lady,  I  might 
never  have  suspected  what  a  brute  I  was  if  it  had  not  been  for  you  ? 
What  a  blessed  thing  it  was  the  colonel  did  not  tell  you  I  was  coming  I 
You  would  never  have  given  me  this  true  insight  into  my  character." 

But  she  saw  nothing  to  laugh  at,  and  would  not  laugh.  Her  lovely 
face  was  still  burning  with  blushes  and  dismay  and  full  of  trouble. 

"  I  do  not  look  upon  it  lightly  at  all,"  she  said.  "  It  was  unpardon- 
able in  me  to — to  " 

"  To  take  so  effective  and  convincing  a  method  of  telling  a  man  of 
his  grievous  sins  !  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  like  a  girl  who  has  the  courage 
to  stand  up  for  her  friends.  I  shall  congratulate  Jerrold  and  Hall  both 
when  I  get  back,  lucky  fellows  that  they  are  !"  And  evidently  Captain 
Armitage  was  deriving  altogether  too  much  jolly  entertainment  from  her 
awkwardness.  She  rallied  and  strove  to  put  an  end  to  it. 

"  Indeed,  Captain  Armitage,  I  do  think  the  young  officers  sorely 
need  friends  and  advocates  at  times.  I  never  would  have  knowingly 
spoken  to  you  of  your  personal  responsibilities  in  the  woes  of  Mr.  Jer- 
rold and  Mr.  Hall,  but  since  I  have  done  so  unwittingly  I  may  as  well 
define  my  position,  especially  as  you  are  so  good-natured  with  it  all." 
And  here,  it  must  be  admitted,  Miss  Renwick's  beautiful  eyes  were 
shyly  lifted  to  his  in  a  most  telling  way.  Once  there,  they  looked 


236  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

squarely  into  the  clear  blue  depths  of  his,  and  never  flinched.  "  It 
seemed  to  me  several  times  at  Sibley  that  the  young  officers  deserved 
more  consideration  and  courtesy  than  their  captains  accorded  them.  It 
was  not  you  alone  that  I  heard  of." 

"  I  am  profoundly  gratified  to  learn  that  somebody  else  is  a  brute," 
he  answered,  trying  to  look  grave,  but  with  that  irrepressible  merriment 
twitching  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth  and  giving  sudden  gleams  of  his 
firm  white  teeth  through  the  thick  moustache.  "  You  are  come  to  us 
just  in  time,  Miss  Renwick,  and  if  you  will  let  me  come  and  tell  you 
all  my  sorrows  the  next  time  the  colonel  pitches  into  me  for  something 
wrong  in  B  Company,  I'll  give  you  full  permission  to  overhaul  me  for 
everything  or  anything  I  say  and  do  to  the  youngsters.  Is  it  a 
bargain  ?"  And  he  held  out  his  big,  firm  hand. 

"  I  think  you  are — very  different  from  what  I  heard,"  was  all  her 
answer,  as  she  looked  up  in  his  eyes,  twinkling  as  they  were  with  fun. 
"  Oh.  we  are  to  shake  hands  on  it  as  a  bargain  ?  Is  that  it  ?  Very 
well,  then." 


IX. 

When  Captdin  Armitage  left  the  cottage  that  night  he  did  not  go 
at  once  to  his  own  room.  Brief  as  was  the  conversation  he  had  enjoyed 
with  Miss  Renwick,  it  was  all  that  Fate  vouchsafed  him  for  that  date 
at  least.  The  entire  party  went  to  tea  together  at  the  hotel,  but  im- 
mediately thereafter  the  colonel  carried  Armitage  away,  and  for  two 
long  hours  they  were  closeted  over  some  letters  that  had  come  from 
Sibley,  and  when  the  conference  broke  up  and  the  wondering  ladies  saw 
the  two  men  come  forth  it  was  late, — almost  ten  o'clock, — and  the 
captain  did  not  venture  beyond  the  threshold  of  the  sitting-room.  He 
bowed  and  bade  them  a  somewhat  ceremonious  good-night.  His  eyes 
rested — lingered— on  Miss  Renwick's  uplifted  face,  and  it  was  the 
picture  he  took  with  him  into  the  stillness  of  the  summer  night. 

The  colonel  accompanied  him  to  the  steps,  and  rested  his  hand  upon 
the  broad  gray  shoulder. 

"  God  only  knows  how  I  have  needed  you,  Armitage.  This  trouble 
has  nearly  crushed  me,  and  it  seemed  as  though  I  were  utterly  alone. 
I  had  the  haunting  fear  that  it  was  only  weakness  on  my  part  and  my 
love  for  my  wife  that  made  me  stand  out  against  Chester's  propositions. 
He  can  only  see  guilt  and  conviction  in  every  new  phase  of  the  case, 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  237 

and,  though  you  see  how  he  tries  to  spare  me,  his  letters  give  no  hope 
of  any  other  conclusion." 

Armitage  pondered  a  moment  before  he  answered.  Then  he  slowly 
spoke: 

"  Chester  has  lived  a  lonely  and  an  unhappy  life.  His  first  experi- 
ence after  graduation  was  that  wretched  affair  of  which  you  have  told 
me.  Of  course  I  knew  much  of  the  particulars  before,  but  not  all.  I 
respect  Chester  as  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman,  and  I  like  him  and  trust 
him  as  a  friend ;  but,  Colonel  Maynard,  in  a  matter  of  such  vital  im- 
portance as  this,  and  one  of  such  delicacy,  I  distrust,  not  his  motives, 
but  his  judgment.  All  his  life,  practically,  he  has  been  brooding  over 
the  sorrow  that  came  to  him  when  your  trouble  came  to  you,  and  his 
mind  is  grooved :  he  believes  he  sees  mystery  and  intrigue  in  matters 
that  others  might  explain  in  an  instant." 

"  But  think  of  all  the  array  of  evidence  he  has." 

"  Enough,  and  more  than  enough,  I  admit,  to  warrant  everything 
he  has  thought  or  said  of  the  man ;  but " 

"  He  simply  puts  it  this  way.  If  he  be  guilty,  can  she  be  less  ? 
Is  it  possible,  Armitage,  that  you  are  unconvinced  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  am  unconvinced.  The  matter  has  not  yet  been  sifted. 
As  I  understand  it,  you  have  forbidden  his  confronting  Jerrold  with  the 
proofs  of  his  rascality  until  I  get  there.  Admitting  the  evidence  of  the 
ladder,  the  picture,  and  the  form  at  the  window, — ay,  the  letter,  too, — 
I  am  yet  to  be  convinced  of  one  thing.  You  must  remember  that  his 
judgment  is  biassed  by  his  early  experiences.  He  fancies  that  no 
woman  is  proof  against  such  fascinations  as  Jerrold's." 

"  And  your  belief?" 

"Is  that  some  women — many  women — are  utterly  above  such  a 
possibility." 

Old  Maynard  wrung  his  comrade's  hand.  "  You  make  me  hope 
in  spite  of  myself, — my  past  experiences, — my  very  senses,  Armitage. 
I  have  leaned  on  you  so  many  years  that  I  missed  you  sorely  when 
this  trial  came.  If  you  had  been  there,  things  might  not  have  taken 
this  shape.  He  looks  upon  Chester — and  it's  one  thing  Chester 
hasn't  forgiven  in  him — as  a  meddling  old  granny ;  you  remember  the 
time  he  so  spoke  of  him  last  year ;  but  he  holds  you  in  respect,  or  is 
afraid  of  you, — which  in  a  man  of  his  calibre  is  about  the  same  thing. ' 
It  may  not  be  too  late  for  you  to  act.  Then  when  he  is  disposed  of  once 
and  for  all,  I  can  know  what  must  be  done — where  she  is  concerned." 


238  FROM  THE  HANKS. 

"  And  under  no  circumstances  can  you  question  Mrs.  Maynard  ?" 

"  No !  no !  If  she  suspected  anything  of  this  it  would  kill  her. 
In  any  event,  she  must  have  no  suspicion  of  it  now." 

"But  does  she  not  ask?  Has  she  no  theory  about  the  missing 
photograph  ?  Surely  she  must  marvel  over  its  disappearance." 

"  She  does  ;  at  least,  she  did  ;  but — I'm  ashamed  to  own  it,  Armi- 
tage — we  had  to  quiet  her  natural  suspicions  in  some  way,  and  I  told  her 
that  it  was  my  doing, — that  I  took  it  to  tease  Alice,  put  the  photograph 
in  the  drawer  of  my  desk,  and  hid  the  frame  behind  her  sofa-pillow. 
Chester  knows  of  the  arrangement,  and  we  had  settled  that  when  the 
picture  was  recovered  from  Mr.  Jerrold  he  would  send  it  to  me." 

Armitage  was  silent.  A  frown  settled  on  his  forehead,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  statement  was  far  from  welcome  to  him.  Presently  he 
held  forth  his  hand. 

"  Well,  good-night,  sir.  I  must  go  and  have  a  quiet  think  over 
this.  I  hope  you  will  rest  well.  You  need  it,  colonel." 

But  Maynard  only  shook  his  head.  His  heart  was  too  troubled 
for  rest  of  any  kind.  He  stood  gazing  out  towards  the  park,  where 
the  tall  figure  of  his  ex-adjutant  had  disappeared  among  the  trees.  He 
heard  the  low-toned,  pleasant  chat  of  the  ladies  in  the  sitting-room,  but 
he  was  in  no  mood  to  join  them.  He  wished  that  Armitage  had  not 
gone,  he  felt  such  strength  and  comparative  hope  in  his  presence; 
but  it  was  plain  that  even  Armitage  was  confounded  by  the  array  of 
facts  and  circumstances  that  he  had  so  painfully  and  slowly  communi- 
cated to  him.  The  colonel  went  drearily  back  to  the  room  in  which 
they  had  had  their  long  conference.  His  wife  and  sister  both  hailed 
him  as  he  passed  the  sitting-room  door,  and  urged  him  to  come  and 
join  them, — they  wanted  to  ask  about  Captain  Armitage,  with  whom 
it  was  evident  they  were  much  impressed ;  but  he  answered  that  he 
had  some  letters  to  put  away,  and  he  must  attend  first  to  that. 

Among  those  that  had  been  shown  to  the  captain,  mainly  letters 
from  Chester  telling  of  the  daily  events  at  the  fort  and  of  his  surveil- 
lance in  the  case  of  Jerrold,  was  one  which  Alice  had  brought  him  two 
days  before.  This  had  seemed  to  him  of  unusual  importance,  as  the 
others  contained  nothing  that  tended  to  throw  new  light  on  the  case. 
It  said,— 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  telegraphed  for  Armitage,  and  heartily  ap- 
prove your  decision  to  lay  the  whole  case  before  him.  I  presume  he 
can  reach  you  by  Sunday,  and  that  by  Tuesday  he  will  be  here  at  the 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  239 

fort  and  ready  to  act.  This  will  be  a  great  relief  to  me,  for,  do  what 
I  could  to  allay  it,  there  is  no  concealing  the  fact  that  much  speculation 
and  gossip  is  afloat  concerning  the  events  of  that  unhappy  night. 
Leary  declares  he  has  been  close-mouthed ;  the  other  men  on  guard 
know  absolutely  nothing,  and  Captain  Wilton  is  the  only  officer  to 
whom  in  my  distress  of  mind  I  betrayed  that  there  was  a  mystery,  and 
he  has  pledged  himself  to  me  to  say  nothing.  Sloat,  too,  has  an  ink- 
ling, and  a  big  one,  that  Jerrold  is  the  suspected  party ;  but  I  never 
dreamed  that  anything  had  been  seen  or  heard  which  in  the  faintest 
way  connected  your  household  with  the  matter,  until  yesterday.  Then 
Leary  admitted  to  me  that  two  women,  Mrs.  Clifford's  cook  and  the 
doctor's  nursery-maid,  had  asked  him  whether  it  wasn't  Lieutenant 
Jerrold  he  fired  at,  and  if  it  was  true  that  he  was  trying  to  get  in  at 
the  colonel's  back  door.  Twice  Mrs.  Clifford  has  asked  me  very  sig- 
nificant questions,  and  three  times  to-day  have  officers  made  remarks  to 
me  that  indicated  their  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  some  grave 
trouble.  What  makes  matters  worse  is  that  Jerrold,  when  twitted 
about  his  absence  from  reveille,  loses  his  temper  and  gets  confused. 
There  came  near  being  a  quarrel  between  him  and  Rollins  at  the  mess 
a  day  or  two  since.  He  was  saying  that  the  reason  he  slept  through 
roll-call  was  the  fact  that  he  had  been  kept  up  very  late  at  the  doctor's 
party,  and  Rollins  happened  to  come  in  at  the  moment  and  blurted  out 
that  if  he  was  up  at  all  it  must  have  been  after  he  left  the  party,  and 
reminded  him  that  he  had  left  before  midnight  with  Miss  Ren  wick 
This  completely  staggered  Jerrold,  who  grew  confused  and  tried  to 
cover  it  with  a  display  of  anger.  Now,  two  weeks  ago  Rollins  was 
most  friendly  to  Jerrold  and  stood  up  for  him  when  I  assailed  him, 
but  ever  since  that  night  he  has  had  no  word  to  say  for  him.  When 
Jerrold  played  wrathful  and  accused  Rollins  of  mixing  in  other  men's 
business,  Rollins  bounced  up  to  him  like  a  young  bull-terrier,  and  I 
believe  there  would  have  been  a  row  had  not  Sloat  and  Hoyt  promptly 
interfered.  Jerrold  apologized,  and  Rollins  accepted  the  apology,  but 
has  avoided  him  ever  since, — won't  speak  of  him  to  me,  now  that  I 
have  reason  to  want  to  draw  him  out.  As  soon  as  Armitage  gets  here 
he  can  do  what  I  cannot, — find  out  just  what  and  who  is  suspected  and 
talked  about. 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  of  course,  avoids  me.  He  has  been  attending  strictly 
to  his  duty,  and  is  evidently  confounded  that  I  did  not  press  the  matter 
of  his -going  to  town  as  he  did  the  day  I  forbade  it.  Mr.  Hoyt's  being 


240  FROM  THE  BANKS. 

too  late  to  see  him  personally  gave  me  sufficient  grounds  on  which  to  ex- 
cuse it ;  but  he  seems  to  understand  that  something  is  impending,  and 
is  looking  nervous  and  harassed.  He  has  not  renewed  his  request  for 
leave  of  absence  to  run  down  to  Sablon.  I  told  him  curtly  it  was  out 
of  the  question." 

The  colonel  took  a  few  strides  up  and  down  the  room.  It  had 
come,  then.  The  good  name  of  those  he  loved  was  already  besmirched 
by  garrison  gossip,  and  he  knew  that  nothing  but  heroic  measures  could 
ever  silence  scandal.  Impulse  and  the  innate  sense  of  "  fight"  urged 
him  to  go  at  once  to  the  scene,  leaving  his  wife  and  her  fair  daughter 
here  under  his  sister's  roof;  but  Armitage  and  common  sense  said  no. 
He  had  placed  his  burden  on  those  broad  gray  shoulders,  and,  though 
ill  content  to  wait,  he  felt  that  he  was  bound.  Stowing  away  the 
letters,  too  nervous  to  sleep,  too  worried  to  talk,  he  stole  from  the 
cottage,  and,  with  hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  with  low-bowed  head 
he  strolled  forth  into  the  broad  vista  of  moonlit  road. 

There  were  bright  lights  still  burning  at  the  hotel,  and  gay  voices 
came  floating  through  the  summer  air.  The  piano,  too,  was  thrumming 
a  waltz  in  the  parlor,  and  two  or  three  couples  were  throwing  em- 
bracing, slowly-twirling  shadows  on  the  windows.  Over  in  the  bar-  and 
billiard-rooms  the  click  of  the  balls  and  the  refreshing  rattle  of  cracked 
ice  told  suggestively  of  the  occupation  of  the  inmates.  Keeping  on  be- 
yond these  distracting  sounds,  he  slowly  climbed  a  long,  gradual  ascent 
to  the  "bench,"  or  plateau  above  the  wooded  point  on  which  were 
grouped  the  glistening  white  buildings  of  the  pretty  summer  resort,  and, 
having  reached  the  crest,  turned  silently  to  gaze  at  the  beauty  of  the 
scene, — at  the  broad,  flawless  bosom  of  a  summer  lake  all  sheen  and 
silver  from  the  unclouded  moon.  Far  to  the  southeast  it  wound  among 
the  bold  and  rock-ribbed  bluffs  rising  from  the  forest  growth  at  their 
base  to  shorn  and  rounded  summits.  Miles  away  to  the  southward 
twinkled  the  lights  of  one  busy  little  town ;  others  gleamed  and 
sparkled  over  towards  the  northern  shore,  close  under  the  pole-star; 
while  directly  opposite  frowned  a  massive  wall  of  palisaded  rock, 
that  threw,  deep  and  heavy  and  far  from  shore,  its  long  reflection  in 
the  mirror  of  water.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring  in  the 
heavens,  not  a  ripple  on  the  face  of  the  waters  beneath,  save  where,  close 
under  the  bold  headland  down  on  the  other  side,  the  signal-lights, 
white  and  crimson  and  green,  creeping  slowly  along  in  the  shadows,  re- 
vealed one  of  the  packets  ploughing  her  steady  way  to  the  great  marts 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  241 

below.  Nearer  at  hand,  just  shaving  the  long  strip  of  sandy,  wooded 
point  that  jutted  far  out  into  the  lake,  a  broad  raft  of  timber,  pushed 
by  a  hard-working,  black-funnelled  stern-wheeler,  was  slowly  forging 
its  way  to  the  outlet  of  the  lake,  its  shadowy  edge  sprinkled  here  and 
there  with  little  sparks  of  lurid  red, — the  pilot-lights  that  gave  warning 
of  its  slow  and  silent  coming.  Far  down  along  the  southern  shore, 
under  that  black  bluff-line,  close  to  the  silver  water-edge,  a  glowing 
meteor  seemed  whirling  through  the  night,  and  the  low,  distant  rumble 
told  of  the  "Atlantic  Express"  thundering  on  its  journey.  Here, 
along  with  him  on  the  level  plateau,  were  other  roomy  cottages,  some 
dark,  some  still  sending  forth  a  guiding  ray ;  while  long  lines  of  white- 
washed fence  gleamed  ghostly  in  the  moonlight  and  were  finally  lost  in 
the  shadow  of  the  great  bluff  that  abruptly  shut  in  the  entire  point 
and  plateau  and  shut  out  all  further  sight  of  lake  or  land  in  that  direc- 
tion. Far  beneath  he  could  hear  the  soft  plash  upon  the  sandy  shore 
of  the  little  wavelets  that  came  sweeping  in  the  wake  of  the  raft-boat 
and  spending  their  tiny  strength  upon  the  strand ;  far  down  on  the 
hotel  point  he  could  still  hear  the  soft  melody  of  the  waltz ;  he  re- 
membered how  the  band  used  to  play  that  same  air,  and  wondered  why 
it  was  he  used  to  like  it ;  it  jarred  him  now.  Presently  the  distant 
crack  of  a  whip  and  the  low  rumble  of  wheels  were  hearcl :  the  omni- 
bus coming  back  from  the  station  with  passengers  from  the  night  train. 
He  was  in  no  mood  to  see  any  one.  He  turned  away  and  walked 
northward  along  the  edge  of  the  bench,  towards  the  deep  shadow  of 
the  great  shoulder  of  the  bluff,  and  presently  he  came  to  a  long  flight 
of  wooden  stairs,  leading  from  the  plateau  down  to  the  hotel,  and  here 
he  stopped  and  seated  himself  awhile.  He  did  not  want  to  go  home 
yet.  He  wanted  to  be  by  himself, — to  think  and  brood  over  his 
trouble.  He  saw  the  omnibus  go  round  the  bend  and  roll  up  to  the 
hotel  door- way  with  its  load  of  pleasure-seekers,  and  heard  the  joyous 
welcome  with  which  some  of  their  number  were  received  by  waiting 
friends,  but  life  had  little  of  joy  to  him  this  night.  He  longed  to  go 
away, — anywhere,  anywhere,  could  he  only  leave  this  haunting  misery 
behind.  He  was  so  proud  of  his  regiment;  he  had  been  so  happy  in 
bringing  home  to  it  his  accomplished  and  gracious  wife ;  he  had  been 
so  joyous  in  planning  for  the  lovely  times  Alice  was  to  have, — the 
Hocial  successes,  the  girlish  triumphs,  the  garrison  gayeties  of  which 
she  was  to  be  the  queen, — and  now,  so  very,  very  soon,  all  had  turned 
to  ashes  and  desolation !  She  wan  so  beautiful,  so  sweet,  winning, 
L  21 


242  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

graceful.  Oh,  God !  could  it  be  that  one  so  gifted  could  possibly  be 
so  base?  He  rose  in  nervous  misery  and  clinched  his  hands  high  in 
air,  then  sat  down  again  with  hiding,  hopeless  face,  rocking  to  and  fro 
as  sways  a  man  in  mortal  pain.  It  was  long  before  he  rallied  and 
again  wearily  arose.  Most  of  the  lights  were  gone ;  silence  had  settled 
down  upon  the  sleeping  point ;  he  was  chilled  with  the  night  air  and 
the  dew,  and  stiff  and  heavy  as  he  tried  to  walk.  Down  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs  he  could  see  the  night-watchman  making  his  rounds.  He  did 
not  want  to  explain  matters  and  talk  with  him  :  he  would  go  around. 
There  was  a  steep  pathway  down  into  the  ravine  that  gave  into  the 
lake  just  beyond  his  sister's  cottage,  and  this  he  sought  and  followed, 
moving  slowly  and  painfully,  but  finally  reaching  the  grassy  level  of 
the  pathway  that  connected  the  cottages  with  the  wood-road  up  the 
bluff.  Trees  and  shrubbery  were  thick  on  both  sides,  and  the  path 
was  shaded.  He  turned  to  his  right,  and  came  down  until  once  more 
he  was  in  sight  of  the  white  walls  of  the  hotel  standing  out  there  on 
the  point,  until  close  at  hand  he  could  see  the  light  of  his  own  cottage 
glimmering  like  faithful  beacon  through  the  trees ;  and  then  he  stopped 
short. 

A  tall,  slender  figure — a  man  in  dark,  snug-fitting  clothing — was 

ting  stealthily  up  to  the  cottage  window. 

Dhe  colonel  held  his  breath :  his  heart  thumped  violently :  he 
waited, — watched.  He  saw  the  dark  figure  reach  the  blinds ;  he  saw 
them  slowly,  softly  turned,  and  the  faint  light  gleaming  from  within ; 
he  saw  the  figure  peering  in  between  the  slats,  and  then — God  !  was  it 
possible? — a  low  voice,  a  man's  voice,  whispering  or  hoarsely  mur- 
muring a  name :  he  heard  a  sudden  movement  within  the  room,  as 
though  the  occupant  had  heard  and  were  replying,  "Coming."  His 
blood  froze :  it  was  not  Alice's  room :  it  was  his, — his  and  hers— his 
wife's, — and  that  was  surely  her  step  approaching  the  window.  Yes, 
the  blind  was  quickly  opened.  A  white-robed  figure  stood  at  the 
casement.  He  could  see,  hear,  bear  no  more :  with  one  mad  rush  he 
sprang  from  his  lair  and  hurled  himself  upon  the  shadowy  stranger. 

"  You  hound  !  who  are  you  ?" 

But  'twas  no  shadow  that  he  grasped.  A  muscular  arm  was  round 
him  in  a  trice,  a  brawny  hand  at  his  throat,  a  twisting,  sinewy  leg  was 
curled  in  his,  and  he  went  reeling  back  upon  the  springy  turf,  stunned 
ind  wellnigh  breathless. 

When  he  could  regain  his  feet  and  reach  the  casement  the  strangei 


creepii 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  243 

had  vanished  ;  but  Mrs.  Maynard  lay  there  on  the  floor  within,  a  white 

and  senseless  heap. 

X. 

Perhaps  it  was  as  well  for  all  parties  that  Frank  Armitage  con- 
cluded that  he  must  have  another  whiff  of  tobacco  that  night  as  an 
incentive  to  the  "  think"  he  had  promised  himself.  He  had  strolled 
through  the  park  to  the  grove  of  trees  out  on  the  point  and  seated 
himself  in  the  shadows.  Here  his  reflections  were  speedily  interrupted 
by  the  animated  flirtations  of  a  few  couples  who,  tiring  of  the  dance, 
came  out  into  the  coolness  of  the  night  and  the  seclusion  of  the  grove, 
where  their  murmured  words  and  soft  laughter  soon  gave  the  captain's 
nerves  a  strain  they  could  not  bear.  He  broke  cover  and  betook  him- 
self to  the  very  edge  of  the  stone  retaining  wall  out  on  the  point. 

He  wanted  to  think  calmly  and  dispassionately ;  he  meant  to  weigh 
all  he  had  read  and  heard  and  form  his  estimate  of  the  gravity  of  the 
case  before  going  to  bed.  He  meant  to  be  impartial, — to  judge  her  as 
he  would  judge  any  other  woman  so  compromised ;  but  for  the  life  of 
him  he  could  not.  He  bore  with  him  the  mute  image  of  her  lovely 
face,  with  its  clear,  truthful,  trustful  dark  eyes.  He  saw  her  as  she 
Btood  before  him  on  the  little  porch  when  they  shook  hands  on  their 
laughing — or  his  laughing — compact,  for  she  would  not  laugh.  How 
perfect  she  was  ! — her  radiant  beauty,  her  uplifted  eyes,  so  full  of  their 
self-reproach  and  regret  at  the  speech  she  had  made  at  his  expense ! 
How  exquisite  was  the  grace  of  her  slender,  rounded  form  as  she  stood 
there  before  him,  one  slim  hand  half  shyly  extended  to  meet  the  cordial 
clasp  of  his  own !  He  wanted  to  judge  and  be  just ;  but  that  image 
dismayed  him.  How  could  he  look  on  this  picture  and  then — on  that, 
— the  one  portrayed  in  the  chain  of  circumstantial  evidence  which  the 
colonel  had  laid  before  him  ?  It  was  monstrous !  it  was  treason  to 
womanhood  !  One  look  in  her  eyes,  superb  in  their  innocence,  was  too 
much  for  his  determined  impartiality.  Armitage  gave  himself  a  mental 
kick  for  what  he  termed  his  imbecility,  and  went  back  to  the  hotel. 

"  It's  no  use,"  he  muttered.  "  I'm  a  slave  of  the  weed,  and  can't 
be  philosophic  without  my  pipe." 

Up  to  his  little  box  of  a  room  he  climbed,  found  his  pipe-case  and 
tobacco-pouch,  and  in  five  minutes  was  strolling  out  to  the  point  once 
.more,  when  he  came  suddenly  upon  the  night-watchman, — a  personage 
o?  whose  functions  and  authority  he  was  entirely  ignorant.  The  man 


244  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

eyed  him  narrowly,  and  essayed  to  speak.  Not  knowing  him,  and 
desiring  to  be  alone,  Armitage  pushed  past,  and  was  surprised  to  find 
that  a  hand  was  on  his  shoulder  and  the  man  at  his  side  before  he  had 
gone  a  rod. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  watchman,  gruffly,  "  but  I  don't  know 
you.  Are  you  stopping  at  the  hotel  ?" 

"  I  am,"  said  Armitage,  coolly,  taking  his  pipe  from  his  lips  and 
blowing  a  cloud  over  his  other  shoulder.  "  And  who  may  you  be?" 

"  I  am  the  watchman ;  and  I  do  not  remember  seeing  you  come 
to-dav." 

"  Nevertheless  I  did." 

"On  what  train,  sir?" 

"  This  afternoon's  up-train." 

"  You  certainly  were  not  on  the  omnibus  when  it  got  here." 

"  Very  true.     I  walked  over  from  beyond  the  school-house." 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  sir.  I  did  not  think  of  that ;  and  the 
manager  requires  me  to  know  everybody.  Is  this  Major  Armitage  ?" 

"  Armitage  is  my  name,  but  I'm  not  a  major." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I'm  glad  to  be  set  right.  And  the  other  gentleman, — 
him  as  was  inquiring  for  Colonel  Maynard  to-night?  He's  in  the 
army,  too,  but  his  name  don't  seem  to  be  on  the  book.  He  only  came 
in  on  the  late  train." 

"  Another  man  to  see  Colonel  Maynard  ?"  asked  the  captain,  with 
sudden  interest.  "Just  come  in,  you  say.  I'm  sure  I've  no  idea. 
What  was  he  like?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  At  first  I  thought  you  was  him.  The  driver 
told  me  he  brought  a  gentleman  over  who  asked  some  questions  about 
Colonel  Maynard,  but  he  didn't  get  aboard  at  the  dSpdt,  and  he  didn't 
come  down  to  the  hotel, — got  off  somewhere  up  there  on  the  bench,  and 
Jim  didn't  see  him." 

"  Where's  Jim  ?"  said  Armitage.  "  Come  with  me,  watchman.  I 
want  to  interview  him." 

Together  they  walked  over  to  the  barn,  which  the  driver  was  just 
locking  up  after  making  everything  secure  for  the  night. 

"  Who  was  it  inquiring  for  Colonel  Maynard  ?"  asked  Armitage. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  was  the  slow  answer.  "  There  was  a  man  got 
aboard  as  I  was  coming  across  the  common  there  in  the  village  at  the 
station.  There  were  several  passengers  from  the  train,  and  some  bag- 
gage :  so  he  may  have  started  ahead  on  foot  but  afterwards  concluded 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  245 

to  ride.  As  soon  as  I  saw  him  get  in  I  reined  up  and  asked  where  he 
was  going ;  he  had  no  baggage  nor  nuthin',  and  my  orders  are  not  to 
haul  anybody  except  people  of  the  hotel :  so  he  came  right  forward 
through  the  'bus  and  took  the  seat  behind  me  and  said  'twas  all  right, 
he  was  going  to  the  hotel ;  and  he  passed  up  a  half-dollar.  I  told  him 
that  I  couldn't  take  the  money, — that  'bus-fares  were  paid  at  the  office, 
— and  drove  ahead.  Then  he  handed  me  a  cigar,  and  pretty  soon  he 
asked  me  if  there  were  many  people,  and  who  had  the  cottages ;  and 
when  I  told  him,  he  asked  which  was  Colonel  Maynard's,  but  he  didn't 
say  he  knew  him,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  was  when  we  got  here  to 
the  hotel  he  wasn't  in  the  'bus.  He  must  have  stepped  back  through 
all  those  passengers  and  slipped  off  up  there  on  the  bench.  He  was  in 
it  when  we  passed  the  little  brown  church  up  on  the  hill." 

"What  was  he  like?" 

"  I  couldn't  see  him  plain.  He  stepped  out  from  behind  a  tree  as 
we  drove  through  the  common,  and  came  right  into  the  'bus.  It  was 
dark  in  there,  and  all  I  know  is  he  was  tall  and  had  on  dark  clothes. 
Some  of  the  people  inside  must  have  seen  him  better ;  but  they  are  all 
gone  to  bed,  I  suppose." 

"  I  will  go  over  to  the  hotel  and  inquire,  anyway,"  said  Armitage, 
and  did  so.  The  lights  were  turned  down,  and  no  one  was  there,  but  he 
could  hear  voices  chatting  in  quiet  tones  on  the  broad,  sheltered  veranda 
without,  and,  going  thither,  found  three  or  four  men  enjoying  a  quiet 
smoke.  Armitage  was  a  man  of  action.  He  stepped  at  once  to  the 
group : 

"  Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  but  did  any  of  you  come  over  in  the 
omnibus  from  the  station  to-night  ?" 

"  I  did,  sir,"  replied  one  of  the  party,  removing  his  cigar  and 
twitching  off  the  ashes  with  his  little  finger,  then  looking  up  with  the 
air  of  a  man  expectant  of  question. 

"  The  watchman  tells  me  a  man  came  over  who  was  making  in- 
quiries for  Colonel  Maynard.  May  I  ask  if  you  saw  or  heard  of  such 
a  person  ?" 

"  A  gentleman  got  in  soon  after  we  left  the  station,  and  when  the 
driver  hailed  him  he  went  forward  and  took  a  seat  near  him.  They 
had  some  conversation,  but  I  did  not  hear  it.  I  only  know  that  he  got 
out  again  a  little  while  before  we  reached  the  hotel." 

"  Could  you  see  him,  and  describe  him  ?  I  am  a  friend  of  Colo- 
21* 


246  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

nel  Maynard's,  an  officer  of  his  regiment, — which  will  account  for  my 
inquiry." 

"  Well,  yes,  sir.  I  noticed  he  was  very  tall  and  slim,  was  dressed 
in  dark  clothes,  and  wore  a  dark  slouched  hat  well  down  over  his  fore- 
head. He  was  what  I  would  call  a  military-looking  man,  for  I  noticed 
his  walk  as  he  got  off;  but  he  wore  big  spectacles, — blue  or  brown 
glass,  I  should  say, — and  had  a  heavy  beard." 

"  Which  way  did  he  go  when  he  left  the  'bus  ?" 

"  He  walked  northward  along  the  road  at  the  edge  of  the  bluff, 
right  up  towards  the  cottages  on  the  upper  level,"  was  the  answer. 

Armitage  thanked  him  for  his  courtesy,  explained  that  he  had  left 
the  colonel  only  a  short  time  before  and  that  he  was  then  expecting  no 
visitor,  and  if  one  had  come  it  was  perhaps  necessary  that  he  should 
be  hunted  up  and  brought  to  the  hotel.  Then  he  left  the  porch  and 
walked  hurriedly  through  the  park  towards  its  northernmost  limit. 
There  to  his  left  stood  the  broad  roadway  along  which,  nestling  under 
shelter  of  the  bluff,  was  ranged  the  line  of  cottages,  some  two-storied, 
with  balconies  and  verandas,  others  low,  single-storied  affairs  with  a 
broad  hall-way  in  the  middle  of  each  and  rooms  on  both  north  and 
south  sides.  Farthermost  north  on  the  row,  almost  hidden  in  the  trees, 
and  nearest  the  ravine,  stood  Aunt  Grace's  cottage,  where  were  domi- 
ciled the  colonel's  household.  It  was  in  the  big  bay-windowed  north 
room  that  he  and  the  colonel  had  had  their  long  conference  earlier  in 
the  evening.  The  south  room,  nearly  opposite,  was  used  as  their  parlor 
and  sitting-room.  Aunt  Grace  and  Miss  Renwick  slept  in  the  little 
front  rooms  north  and  south  of  the  hall-way,  and  the  lights  in  their 
rooms  were  extinguished ;  so,  too,  was  that  in  the  parlor.  All  was 
darkness  on  the  south  and  east.  All  was  silence  and  peace  as  Armi- 
tage approached ;  but  just  as  he  reached  the  shadow  of  the  stunted  oak- 
tree  growing  in  front  of  the  house  his  ears  were  startled  by  an  agonized 
cry,  a  woman's  half-stifled  shriek.  He  bounded  up  the  steps,  seized 
the  knob  of  the  door  and  threw  his  weight  against  it.  It  was  firmly 
bolted  within.  Loud  he  thundered  on  the  panels.  "'Tis  I, — Armi- 
tage !"  he  called.  He  heard  the  quick  patter  of  little  feet ;  the  bolt 
was  slid,  and  he  rushed  in,  almost  stumbling  against  a  trembling,  terror- 
stricken,  yet  welcoming  white-robed  form, — Alice  Renwick,  barefooted, 
with  her  glorious  wealth  of  hair  tumbling  in  dark  luxuriance  all  down 
over  the  dainty  night-dress, — Alice  Renwick,  with  pallid  face  and  wild 
imploring  eyes. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  247 

"  What  is  wrong  ?"  he  asked,  in  haste.         -  \  • 

"  It's  mother, — her  room, — and  it's  locked,  and  she  won't  answer," 
was  the  gasping  reply. 

Armitage  sprang  to  the  rear  of  the  hall,  leaned  one  second  against 
the  opposite  will,  sent  his  foot  with  mighty  impulse  and  muscled  im- 
pact against  the  opposing  lock,  and  the  door  flew  open  with  a  crash. 
The  next  instant  Alice  was  bending  over  her  senseless  mother,  and  the 
captain  was  giving  a  hand  in  much  bewilderment  to  the  panting  colonel, 
frliD  was  striving  to  clamber  in  at  the  window.  The  ministrations  of 
Aunt  Grace  and  Alice  were  speedily  sufficient  to  restore  Mrs.  Maynard. 
A  teaspoonful  of  brandy  administered  by  the  colonel's  trembling  hand 
helped  matters  materially.  Then  he  turned  to  Armitage. 

"  Come  outside,"  he  said. 

Once  again  in  the  moonlight  the  two  men  faced  each  other. 

"  Armitage,  can  you  get  a  horse  ?" 

"  Certainly.     What  then  ?" 

"  Go  to  the  station,  get  men,  if  possible,  and  head  this  fellow  off. 
He  was  here  again  to-night,  and  it  was  not  Alice  he  called,  but  my — 
but  Mrs.  Maynard.  I  saw  him ;  I  grappled  with  him  right  here  at 
the  bay-window  where  she  met  him,  and  he  hurled  me  to  grass  as 
though  I'd  been  a  child.  I  want  a  horse  !  I  want  that  man  to-night. 
How  did  he  get  away  from  Sibley  ?" 

"  Do  you  mean— do  you  think  it  was  Jerrold  ?" 

"  Good  God,  yes  !  Who  else  could  it  be  ?  Disguised,  of  course, 
and  bearded ;  but  the  figure,  the  carriage,  were  just  the  same,  and  he 
came  to  this  window, — to  her  window, — and  called,  and  she  answered. 
My  God,  Armitage,  think  of  it !" 

"  Come  with  me,  colonel.  You  are  all  unstrung,"  was  the  captain's 
answer  as  he  led  his  broken  friend  away.  At  the  front  door  he  stopped 
one  moment,  then  ran  up  the  steps  and  into  the  hall,  where  he  tapped 
lightly  at  the  casement. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  was  the  low  response  from  an  invisible  source. 

"Miss  Alice?" 

"Yes." 

"  The  watchman  is  here  now.  I  will  send  him  around  to  the  win- 
dow to  keep  guard  until  our  return.  The  colonel  is  a  little  upset  by 
the  shock,  and  I  want  to  attend  to  him.  We  are  going  to  the  hotel  a 
moment  before  I  bring  him  home.  You  are  not  afraid  to  have  him 
leave  ycu?" 


248  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Not  now,  captain." 

"Is  Mrs.  Maynard  better?" 

"  Yes.  She  hardly  seems  to  know  what  has  happened.  Indeed, 
none  of  us  do.  What  was  it  ?" 

"  A  tramp,  looking  for  something  to  eat,  tried  to  open  the  blinds, 
and  the  colonel  was  out  here  and  made  a  jump  at  him.  They  had  a 
scuffle  in  the  shrubbery,  and  the  tramp  got  away.  It  frightened  your 
mother :  that's  the  sum  of  it,  I  think." 

"  Is  papa  hurt  ?" 

"  No :  a  little  bruised  and  shaken,  and  mad  as  a  hornet.  I  think 
perhaps  I'll  get  him  quieted  down  and  sleepy  in  a  few  minutes,  if  you 
and  Mrs.  Maynard  will  be  content  to  let  him  stay  with  me.  I  can 
talk  almost  any  man  drowsy." 

"  Mamma  seems  to  worry  for  fear  he  is  hurt." 

"Assure  her  solemnly  that  he  hasn't  a  scratch.  He  is  simply 
fighting  mad,  and  I'm  going  to  try  and  find  the  tramp.  Does  Mrs. 
Maynard  remember  how  he  looked  ?" 

"  She  could  not  see  the  face  at  all.  She  heard  some  one  at  the 
shutters,  and  a  voice,  and  supposed  of  course  it  was  papa,  and  threw 
open  the  blind." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  That's  all,  Miss  Alice.  I'll  go  back  to  the  colonel. 
Good-night !"  And  Armitage  went  forth  with  a  lighter  step. 

"  One  sensation  knocked  endwise,  colonel.  I  have  it  on  the  best 
of  authority  that  Mrs.  Maynard  so  fearlessly  went  to  the  window  in 
answer  to  the  voice  and  noise  at  the  shutters  simply  because  she  knew 
you  were  out  there  somewhere  and  she  supposed  it  was  you.  How 
simple  these  mysteries  become  when  a  little  daylight  is  let  in  on  them, 
after  all !  Come,  I'm  going  to  take  you  over  to  my  room  for  a  stiff 
glass  of  grog,  and  then  after  his  trampship  while  you  go  back  to 
bed." 

"Armitage,  you  seem  to  make  very  light  of  this  night's  doings. 
What  is  easier  than  to  connect  it  all  with  the  trouble  at  Sibley  ?" 

"  Nothing  was  ever  more  easily  explained  than  this  thing,  colonel, 
and  all  I  want  now  is  a  chance  to  get  that  tramp.  Then  I'll  go  to 
Sibley ;  and  'pon  my  word  I  believe  that  mystery  can  be  made  as  com- 
monplace a  piece  of  petty  larceny  as  this  was  of  vagrancy.  Come." 

But  when  Armitage  left  the  colonel  at  a  later  hour  and  sought  his 
own  room  for  a  brief  rest  he  was  in  no  such  buoyant  mood.  A  night- 
search  for  a  tramp  in  the  dense  thickets  among  the  bluffs  and  woods  of 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  249 

Sablon  could  hardly  be  successful.  It  was  useless  to  make  the  attempt. 
He  slept  but  little  during  the  cool  August  night,  and  early  in  the  morn- 
ing mounted  a  horse  and  trotted  over  to  the  railway-station. 

"Has  any  train  gone  northward  since  last  night?"  he  inquired  at 
the  office. 

"  None  that  stop  here,"  was  the  answer.  "  The  first  train  up  comes 
along  at  11.56." 

"  I  want  to  send  a  despatch  to  Fort  Sibley  and  get  an  answer  with- 
out delay.  Can  you  work  it  for  me  ?" 

The  agent  nodded,  and  pushed  over  a  package  of  blanks.  Armi- 
tage  wrote  rapidly  as  follows  : 

"  CAPTAIN  CHESTER, 

"  Commanding  Fort  Sibley. 
"  Is  Jerrold  there  ?     Tell  him  I  will  arrive  Tuesday.     Answer. 

"  F.  ARMITAGE." 

It  was  along  towards  nine  o'clock  when  the  return  message  came 
clicking  in  on  the  wires,  was  written  out,  and  handed  to  the  tall  soldier 
with  the  tired  blue  eyes. 

He  read,  started,  crushed  the  paper  in  his  hand,  and  turned  from 
the  office.  The  answer  was  significant : 

"  Lieutenant  Jerrold  left  Sibley  yesterday  afternoon.  Not  yet  re- 
turned. Absent  without  leave  this  morning. 

"CHESTER." 
XI. 

Nature  never  vouchsafed  to  wearied  man  a  lovelier  day  of  rest  than 
the  still  Sunday  on  which  Frank  Armitage  rode  slowly  back  from  the 
station.  The  soft,  mellow  tone  of  the  church-bell,  tolling  the  summons 
for  morning  service,  floated  out  from  the  brown  tower,  and  was  echoed 
back  from  the  rocky  cliff  glistening  in  the  August  sunshine  on  the 
northern  bluff.  Groups  of  villagers  hung  about  the  steps  of  the  little 
sanctuary  and  gazed  with  mild  curiosity  at  the  arriving  parties  from  the 
cottages  and  the  hotel.  The  big  red  omnibus  came  up  with  a  load  of 
worshippers,  and  farther  away,  down  the  vista  of  the  road,  Armitage 
,  could  see  others  on  foot  and  in  carriages,  all  wending  their  way  to  church. 
He  was  in  no  mood  to  meet  them.  The  story  that  he  had  been  out 
pursuing  a  tramp  during  the  night  was  pretty  thoroughly  circulated  by 
this  time,  he  felt  assured,  and  every  one  would  connect  his  early  ride  t.« 
L* 


250  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

the  station,  in  some  way,  with  the  adventure  that  the  grooms,  hostlers, 
cooks,  and  kitchen-maids  had  all  been  dilating  upon  ever  since  daybreak. 
He  dreaded  to  meet  the  curious  glances  of  the  women,  and  the  questions 
of  the  few  men  whom  he  had  taken  so  far  into  his  confidence  as  to  ask 
about  the  mysterious  person  who  came  over  in  the  stage  with  them.  He 
reined  up  his  horse,  and  then,  seeing  a  little  pathway  leading  into  the 
thick  wood  to  his  right,  he  turned  in  thither  and  followed  it  some  fifty 
yards  among  bordering  treasures  of  coreopsis  and  golden-rod  and  wild 
luxuriance  of  vine  and  foliage.  Dismounting  in  the  shade,  he  threw 
the  reins  over  his  arm  and  let  his  horse  crop  the  juicy  grasses,  while  he 
seated  himself  on  a  little  stump  and  fell  to  thinking  again.  He  could 
hear  the  reverent  voices  of  one  or  two  visitors  strolling  about  among  the 
peaceful,  flower-decked  graves  behind  the  little  church  and  only  a  short 
stone's-throw  away  through  the  shrubbery.  He  could  hear  the  low, 
solemn  voluntary  of  the  organ,  and  presently  the  glad  outburst  of 
young  voices  in  the  opening  hymn,  but  he  knew  that  belated  ones  would 
still  be  coming  to  church,  and  he  would  not  come  forth  from  his  covert 
until  all  were  out  of  the  way.  Then,  too,  he  was  glad  of  a  little  longer 
time  to  think :  he  did  not  want  to  tell  the  colonel  the  result  of  his 
morning  investigations. 

To  begin  with :  the  watchman,  the  driver,  and  the  two  men  whom 
he  had  questioned  were  all  of  an  opinion  as  to  the  character  of  the 
stranger:  "he  was  a  military  man."  The  passengers  described  his 
voice  as  that  of  a  man  of  education  and  social  position ;  the  driver 
and  passengers  declared  his  walk  and  carriage  to  be  that  of  a  soldier : 
he  was  taller,  they  said,  than  the  tall,  stalwart  Saxon  captain,  but  by 
no  means  so  heavily  built.  As  to  age,  they  could  not  tell :  his  beard 
was  black  and  curly, — no  gray  hairs ;  his  movements  were  quick  and 
elastic ;  but  his  eyes  were  hidden  by  those  colored  glasses,  and  his  fore- 
head by  the  slouch  of  that  broad-brimmed  felt  hat. 

At  the  station,  while  awaiting  the  answer  to  his  despatch,  Armitage 
had  questioned  the  agent  as  to  whether  any  man  of  that  description  had 
arrived  by  the  night  train  from  the  north.  He  had  seen  none,  he  said, 
but  there  was  Larsen  over  at  the  post-office  store,  who  came  down  on 
that  train ;  perhaps  he  could  tell.  Oddly  enough,  Mr.  Larsen  recalled 
just  such  a  party, — tall,  slim,  dark,  dark-bearded,  with  blue  glasses 
and  dark  hat  and  clothes, — but  he  was  bound  for  Lakeville,  the  station 
beyond,  and  he  remained  in  the  car  when  he,  Larsen,  got  off.  Larsen 
remembered  the  man  well,  because  he  sat  in  the  rear  corner  of  the 


JfROM  THE  RANKS.  251 

smoker  and  had  nothing  to  say  to  anybody,  but  kept  reading  a  news- 
paper ;  and  the  way  he  came  to  take  note  of  him  was  that  while  stand- 
ing with  two  friends  at  that  end  of  the  car  they  happened  to  be  right 
around  the  man.  The  Saturday  evening  train  from  the  city  is  always 
crowded  with  people  from  the  river  towns  who  have  been  up  to  market 
or  the  matinees,  and  even  the  smoker  was  filled  with  standing  men 
until  they  got  some  thirty  miles  down.  Larsen  wanted  to  light  a  fresh 
cigar,  and  offered  one  to  each  of  his  friends :  then  it  was  found  they 
had  no  matches,  and  one  of  them,  who  had  been  drinking  a  little  and 
felt  jovial,  turned  to  the  dark  stranger  and  asked  him  for  a  light,  and 
the  man,  without  speaking,  handed  out  a  little  silver  match-box.  It 
was  just  then  that  the  conductor  came  along,  and  Larsen  saw  his  ticket. 
It  was  a  "  round  trip"  to  Lakeville :  he  was  evidently  going  there  for 
a  visit,  and  therefore,  said  Larsen,  he  didn't  get  off  at  Sablon  Station, 
which  was  six  miles  above. 

But  Armitage  knew  better.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  quietly 
slipped  out  on  the  platform  of  the  car  after  the  regular  passengers  had 
got  out  of  the  way,  and  let  himself  off  into  the  darkness  on  the  side 
opposite  the  station.  Thence  he  had  an  open  and  unimpeded  walk  of 
a  few  hundred  yards  until  he  reached  the  common,  and  then,  when 
overtaken  by  the  hotel  omnibus,  he  could  jump  aboard  and  ride. 
There  was  only  one  road,  only  one  way  over  to  the  hotel,  and  he  could 
not  miss  it.  There  was  no  doubt  now  that,  whoever  he  was,  the  night 
visitor  had  come  down  on  the  evening  tram  from  the  city ;  and  his 
return  ticket  would  indicate  that  he  meant  to  go  back  the  way  he  came. 
It  was  half-past  ten  when  that  train  arrived.  It  was  nearly  midnight 
when  the  man  appeared  at  the  cottage  window.  It  was  after  two  when 
Armitage  gave  up  the  search  and  went  to  bed.  It  was  possible  for  the 
man  to  have  walked  to  Lakeville,  six  miles  south,  and  reached  the 
station  there  in  abundant  time  to  take  the  up-train  which  passed  Sablon, 
without  stopping,  a  little  before  daybreak.  If  he  took  that  train,  and 
if  he  was  Jerrold,  he  would  have  been  in  the  city  before  seven,  and 
could  have  been  at  Fort  Sibley  before  or  by  eight  o'clock.  But  Chester's 
despatch  showed  clearly  that  at  8.30 — the  hour  for  signing  the  company 
morning  reports — Mr.  Jerrold  was  not  at  his  post.  Was  he  still  in  the 
neighborhood  and  waiting  for  the  noon  train?  If  so,  could  he  be  con- 
fronted on  the  cars  and  accused  of  his  crime  ?  He  looked  at  his  watch  ; 
it  was  nearly  eleven,  and  he  must  push  on  to  the  hotel  before  that  hour, 
report  to  the  colonel,  then  hasten  back  to  the  station.  He  sprang  to  his 


252  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

feet,  and  was  just  about  to  mount,  when  a  vision  of  white  and  scarlet 
came  suddenly  into  view.  There,  within  twenty  feet  of  him,  making 
her  dainty  way  through  the  shrubbery  from  the  direction  of  the  church, 
sunshine  and  shadow  alternately  flitting  across  her  lovely  face  and  form, 
Alice  Renwick  stepped  forth  into  the  pathway,  and,  shading  her  eyes 
with  her  hand,  gazed  along  the  leafy  lane  towards  the  road,  as  though 
expectant  of  another's  coming.  Then,  attracted  by  the  beauty  of  the 
golden-rod,  she  bent  and  busied  herself  with  gathering  in  the  yellow 
sprays.  Armitage,  with  one  foot  in  the  stirrup,  stood  stock-still,  half 
in  surprise,  half  stunned  by  a  sudden  and  painful  thought.  Could  it 
be  that  she  was  there  in  hopes  of  meeting — any  one  ? 

He  retook  his  foot  from  the  stirrup,  and,  relaxing  the  rein,  still 
stood  gazing  at  her  over  his  horse's  back.  That  placid  quadruped, 
whose  years  had  been  spent  in  these  pleasant  by-ways  and  were  too 
many  to  warrant  an  exhibition  of  coltish  surprise,  promptly  lowered 
his  head  and  resumed  his  occupation  of  grass-nibbling,  making  a  little 
crunching  noise  which  Miss  Renwick  might  have  heard,  but  apparently 
did  not.  She  was  singing  very  softly  to  herself, — 

"  Daisy,  tell  my  fortune,  pray : 
He  loves  me  not, — he  loves  me." 

And  still  Armitage  stood  and  gazed,  while  she,  absorbed  in  her 
pleasant  task,  still  pulled  and  plucked  at  the  golden-rod.  In  all  his 
life  no  "  vision  of  fair  women"  had  been  to  him  fair  and  sacred  and 
exquisite  as  this.  Down  to  the  tip  of  her  arched  and  slender  foot, 
peeping  from  beneath  the  broidered  hem  of  her  snowy  skirt,  she  stood 
the  lady  born  and  bred,  and  his  eyes  looked  on  and  worshipped  her, — 
worshipped,  yet  questioned,  Why  came  she  here  ?  Absorbed,  he  re- 
leased his  hold  on  the  rein,  and  Dobbin,  nothing  loath,  reached  with 
his  long,  lean  neck  for  further  herbage,  and  stepped  in  among  the 
trees.  Still  stood  his  negligent  master,  fascinated  in  his  study  of  the 
lovely,  graceful  girl.  Ajain  she  raised  her  head  and  looked  north- 
ward along  the  winding,  shaded  wood-path.  A  few  yards  away  were 
other  great  clusters  of  the  wild  flowers  she  loved,  more  sun-kissed 
golden-rod,  and,  with  a  little  murmur  of  delight,  gathering  her  dainty 
skirts  in  one  hand,  she  flitted  up  the  pathway  like  an  unconscious 
humming-bird  garnering  the  sweets  from  every  blossom.  A  little 
farther  on  the  pathway  bent  among  the  trees,  and  she  would  be  hidden 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  25S 

from  his  sight;  but  still  he  stood  and  studied  her  every  movement, 
drank  in  the  soft,  cooing  melody  of  her  voice  as  she  sang,  and  then 
there  came  a  sweet,  solemn  strain  from  the  brown,  sunlit  walls  just 
visible  through  the  trees,  and  reverent  voices  and  the  resonant  chords  of 
the  organ  thrilled  through  the  listening  woods  the  glorious  anthem  of 
the  church  militant 

At  the  first  notes  she  lifted  up  her  queenly  head  and  stood,  listen- 
ing and  appreciative.  Then  he  saw  her  rounded  throat  swelling  like  a 
bird's,  and  the  rich,  full  tones  of  her  voice  rang  out  through  the 
welcoming  sunshine,  and  the  fluttering  wrens,  and  proud  red-breasted 
robins,  and  rival  song-queens,  the  brown-winged  thrushes, — even  the 
impudent  shrieking  jays, — seemed  to  hush  and  listen.  Dobbin,  fairly 
astonished,  lifted  up  his  hollow-eyed  head  and  looked  amazedly  at  the 
white  songstress  whose  scarlet  sash  and  neck-ribbons  gleamed  in  such 
vivid  contrast  to  the  foliage  about  her.  A  wondering  little  "  cotton- 
tail" rabbit,  shy  and  wild  as  a  hawk,  came  darting  through  the  bushes 
into  the  sunshiny  patchwork  on  the  path,  and  then,  uptilted  and  witt 
quivering  ears  and  nostrils  and  wide-staring  eyes,  stood  paralyzed  with 
helpless  amaze,  ignoring  the  tall  man  in  gray  as  did  the  singer  herself. 
Richer,  rounder,  fuller  grew  the  melody,  as,  abandoning  herself  to  the 
impulse  of  the  sacred  hour,  she  joined  with  all  her  girlish  heart  in  the 
words  of  praise  and  thanksgiving, — in  the  glad  and  triumphant  chorus 
of  the  Te  Deum.  From  beginning  to  end  she  sang,  now  ringing  and 
exultant,  now  soft  and  plaintive,  following  the  solemn  words  of  the 
ritual, — sweet  and  low  and  suppliant  in  the  petition,  "  We  therefore 
pray  Thee  help  Thy  servants  whom  Thou  hast  redeemed  with  Thy 
precious  blood,"  confident  and  exulting  in  the  declaration,  "Thou 
art  the  King  of  Glory,  O  Christ,"  and  then  rich  with  fearless  trust 
and  faith  in  the  thrilling  climax,  "Let  me  never  be  confounded." 
Arinitage  listened  as  one  in  a  trance.  From  the  depth  of  her  heart 
the  girl  had  joined  her  glorious  voice  to  the  chorus  of  praise  and  ado- 
ration, and  now  that  all  was  stilled  once  more  her  head  had  fallen 
forward  on  her  bosom,  her  hands,  laden  with  golden-rod,  were  joined 
together :  it  seemed  as  though  she  were  lost  in  prayer. 

And  this  was  the  girl,  this  the  pure,  God- worshipping,  God-fearing 
woman,  who  for  one  black  instant  he  had  dared  to  fancy  had  come  here 
expectant  of  a  meeting  with  the  man  whose  aim  had  been  frustrated 
but  the  night  before !  He  could  have  thrown  himself  at  her  feet  and 
implored  her  pardon.  He  did  step  forth,  and  then,  hat  in  hand,  baring 


254  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

his  proud  Saxon  head  as  his  forefathers  would  have  uncovered  to  their 
monarch,  he  waited  until  she  lifted  up  her  eyes  and  saw  him,  and 
knew  by  the  look  in  his  frank  face  that  he  had  stood  by,  a  mute  listener 
to  her  unstudied  devotions.  A  lovely  flush  rose  to  her  very  temples, 
and  her  eyes  drooped  their  pallid  lids  until  the  long  lashes  swept  the 
crimson  of  her  cheeks. 

"  Have  you  been  here,  captain  ?  I  never  saw  you,"  was  her  flutter- 
ing question. 

"  I  rode  in  here  on  my  way  back  from  the  station,  not  caring  to 
meet  all  the  good  people  going  to  church.  I  felt  like  an  outcast." 

"  I,  too,  am  a  recreant  to-day.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  missed 
service  in  a  long  while.  Mamma  felt  too  unstrung  to  come,  and  I 
had  given  up  the  idea,  but  both  she  and  Aunt  Grace  urged  me.  I  was 
too  late  for  the  omnibus,  and  walked  up,  and  then  I  would  not  go  in 
because  service  was  begun,  and  I  wanted  to  be  home  again  before  noon. 
I  cannot  bear  to  be  late  at  church,  or  to  leave  it  until  everything  is  over, 
but  I  can't  be  away  from  mother  so  long  to-day.  Shall  we  walk  that 
way  now  ?" 

"  In  a  minute.  I  must  find  my  horse.  He  is  in  here  somewhere. 
Tell  me  how  the  colonel  is  feeling,  and  Mrs.  Maynard." 

"  Both  very  nervous  and  worried,  though  I  see  nothing  extraordi- 
nary in  the  adventure.  We  read  of  poor  hungry  tramps  everywhere, 
and  they  rarely  do  harm." 

"  I  wonder  a  little  at  your  venturing  here  in  the  wood-paths,  after 
what  occurred  last  night." 

"  Why,  Captain  Armitage,  no  one  would  harm  me  here,  so  close  to 
the  church.  Indeed,  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  until  you  men- 
tioned it.  Did  you  discover  anything  about  the  man  ?" 

"  Nothing  definite ;  but  I  must  be  at  the  station  again  to  meet  the 
up-train,  and  have  to  see  the  colonel  meantime.  Let  me  find  Dobbin, 
or  whatever  they  call  tHs  venerable  relic  I'm  riding,  and  then  I'll 
escort  you  home." 

But  Dobbin  had  strayed  deeper  into  the  wood.  It  was  some 
minutes  before  the  captain  could  find  and  catch  him.  The  rich  melody 
of  sacred  music  was  again  thrilling  through  the  perfumed  woods,  the 
glad  sunshine  was  pouring  its  warmth  and  blessing  over  all  the  earth, 
glinting  on  bluff  and  brake  and  palisaded  cliff,  the  birds  were  all  sing- 
ing their  rivalling  psaltery,  and  Nature  seemed  pouring  forth  its  homage 
to  the  Creator  and  Preserver  of  all  on  this  His  holy  day,  when  Frank 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  255 

Armitege  once  more  reached  the  bowered  lane  where,  fairest,  sweetest 
sight  01  all,  his  lady  stood  waiting  him.  She  turned  to  him  as  she 
heard  the  hoof-beat  on  the  turf,  and  smiled. 

"  Can  we  wait  and  hear  that  hymn  through  ?" 

"Ay.     Sing  it." 

She  looked  suddenly  in  his  face.  Something  in  the  very  tone  in 
which  he  spoke  startled  her, — something  deeper,  more  fervent,  than  she 
had  ever  heard  before, — and  the  expression  in  the  steady,  deep-blue  eyes 
was  another  revelation.  Alice  Renwick  had  a  woman's  intuition,  and 
yet  she  had  not  known  this  man  a  day.  The  color  again  mounted  to 
her  temples,  and  her  eyes  fell  after  one  quick  glance. 

"I  heard  you  joining  in  the  Te  Deum,"  he  urged.  "Sing  once 
more :  I  love  it.  There,  they  are  just  beginning  again.  Do  you 
know  the  words  ?" 

She  nodded,  then  raised  her  head,  and  her  glad  young  voice  carolled 
through  the  listening  woods : 

"Holy,  holy,  holy!    All 

Heaven's  triumphant  choir  shall  sing, 
When  the  ransomed  nations  fall 

At  the  footstool  of  their  King : 
Then  shall  saints  and  seraphim, 
Hearts  and  voices,  swell  one  hymn 
Round  the  throne  with  full  accord, 
Holy,  holy,  holy  Lord  I" 

There  was  silence  when  the  music  ceased.  She  had  turned  her  face 
towards  the  church,  and,  as  the  melody  died  away  in  one  prolonged, 
triumphant  chord,  she  still  stood  in  reverent  attitude,  as  though  listen- 
ing for  the  words  of  benediction.  He,  too,  was  silent,  but  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  her.  He  was  thirty-five,  she  not  twenty.  He  had  lived  his 
soldier  life  wifeless,  but,  like  other  soldiers,  his  heart  had  had  its  rubs 
and  aches  in  the  days  gone  by.  Years  before  he  had  thought  life  a 
black  void  when  the  girl  he  fancied  while  yet  he  wore  the  Academic 
gray  calmly  told  him  she  preferred  another.  Nor  had  the  intervening 
years  been  devoid  of  their  occasional  yearnings  for  a  mate  of  his  own  in 
the  isolation  of  the  frontier  or  the  monotony  of  garrison  life ;  but  flitting 
fancies  had  left  no  trace  upon  his  strong  heart.  The  love  of  his  life 
only  dawned  upon  him  at  this  late  day  when  he  looked  into  her  glo- 
rious eyes  and  his  whole  soul  went  out  in  passionate  worship  of  the  fair 


256  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

girl  whose  presence  made  that  sunlit  lane  a  heaven.  Were  he  to  live  a 
thousand  years,  no  scene  on  earth  could  rival  in  his  eyes  the  love- 
haunted  woodland  pathway  wherein  like  forest  queen  she  stood,  the 
sunshine  and  leafy  shadows  dancing  over  her  graceful  form,  the  golden- 
rod  enhancing  her  dark  and  glowing  beauty,  the  sacred  influences  of  the 
day  throwing  their  mystic  charm  about  her  as  though  angels  guarded 
and  shielded  her  from  harm.  His  life  had  reached  its  climax ;  his  fate 
•  was  sealed ;  his  heart  and  soul  were  centred  in  one  sweet  girl, — and  all 
in  one  brief  hour  in  the  woodland  lane  at  Sablon. 

She  could  not  fail  to  see  the  deep  emotion  in  his  eyes  as  at  last  she 
turned  to  break  the  silence. 

"  Shall  we  go  ?"  she  said,  simply. 
"  It  is  time ;  but  I  wish  we  could  remain." 
"  You  do  not  go  to  church  very  often  at  Sibley,  do  you  ?" 
"I  have  not,  heretofore;   but  you  would  teach  me  to  worship." 
"  You  have  taught  me,"  he  muttered  below  his  breath,  as  he  extended 
a  hand  to  assist  her  down  the  sloping  bank  towards  the  avenue.     She 
looked  up  quickly  once  more,  pleased,  yet  shy,  and  shifted  her  great 
bunch  of  golden-rod  so  that  she  could  lay  her  hand  in  his  and  lean  upon 
its  steady  strength  down  the  incline ;  and  so,  hand  in  hand,  with  old 
Dobbin  ambling  placidly  behind,  they  passed  out  from  the  shaded  path- 
way to  the  glow  and  radiance  of  the  sunlit  road. 

XII. 

"  Colonel  Maynard,  I  admit  everything  you  say  as  to  the  weight  of 
the  evidence,"  said  Frank  Armitage,  twenty  minutes  later,  "  but  it  is 
my  faith — understand  me:  my  faith,  I  say — that  she  is  utterly  inno- 
cent. As  for  that  damnable  letter,  I  do  not  believe  it  was  ever  written 
to  her.  It  is  some  other  woman." 

"What  other  is  there,  or  was  there?"  was  the  colonel's  simple 
reply. 

"  That  is  what  I  mean  to  find  out.  Will  you  have  my  baggage 
sent  after  me  to-night  ?  I  am  going  at  once  to  the  station,  and  thence 
to  Sibley.  I  will  write  you  from  there.  If  the  midnight  visitor  should 
prove  to  have  been  Jerrold,  he  can  be  made  to  explain.  I  have  always 
held  him  to  be  a  conceited  fop,  but  never  either  crack-brained  or  devoid 
of  principle.  There  is  no  time  for  explanation  now.  Good-by ;  and 
keep  a  good  lookout.  That  fellow  may  be  here  again." 

And  in  an  hour  more  Armitage  was  skimming  along  the  winding 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  257 

river-side  en  route  to  Sibley.  He  had  searched  the  train  from  pilot  to 
rear  platform,  and  no  man  who  in  the  faintest  degree  resembled  Mr. 
Jerrold  was  on  board.  He  had  wired  to  Chester  that  he  would  reach 
the  fort  that  evening,  but  would  not  resume  duty  for  a  fe^\  days.  He 
made  another  search  through  the  train  as  they  neared  the  city,  and  still 
there  was  no  one  who  in  stature  or  appearance  corresponded  with  the 
descriptions  given  him  of  the  sinewy  visitor. 

|  Late  in  the  afternoon  Chester  received  him  as  he  alighted  from  the 
train  at  the  little  station  under  the  cliff.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and 
numbers  of  people  were  driving  or  riding  out  to  the  fort,  and  the  high 
bridge  over  the  gorge  was  constantly  resounding  to  the  thunder  of 
hoofs.  Many  others,  too,  had  come  out  on  the  train ;  for  the  evening 
dress-parade  always  attracted  a  swarm  of  visitors.  A  corporal  of  the 
guard,  with  a  couple  of  men,  was  on  hand  to  keep  vigilant  eye  on  the 
arrivals  and  to  persuade  certain  proscribed  parties  to  re-enter  the  cars 
and  go  on,  should  they  attempt  to  revisit  the  post,  and  the  faces  of 
these  were  lighted  up  as  they  saw  their  old  adjutant ;  but  none  others 
of  the  garrison  appeared. 

"  Let  us  wait  a  moment  and  get  these  people  out  of  the  way,"  said 
Armitage.  "  I  want  to  talk  with  you.  Is  Jerrold  back  ?" 

"  Yes.  He  came  in  just  ten  minutes  after  I  telegraphed  to  you, 
was  present  at  inspection,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  despatch  this 
morning  I  should  not  have  known  he  had  remained  out  of  quarters 
He  appeared  to  resent  my  having  been  to  his  quarters, — calls  it  spying, 
I  presume." 

"  What  permission  had  he  to  be  away  ?" 

"I  gave  him  leave  to  visit  town  on  personal  business  yesterday 
afternoon.  He  merely  asked  to  be  away  a  few  hours  to  meet  friends  in 
town,  and  Mr.  Hall  took  tattoo  roll-call  for  him.  As  I  do  not  require 
any  other  officer  to  report  the  time  of  his  return,  I  did  not  exact  it  of 
him  ;  but  of  course  no  man  can  be  away  after  midnight  without  special 
permission,  and  he  was  gone  all  night.  What  is  it,  Armitage  ?  Has 
he  followed  her  down  there  ?" 

"  Somebody  was  there  last  night  and  capsized  the  colonel  pretty  much 
as  he  did  you  the  night  of  the  ladder  episode,"  said  Armitage,  coolly. 

"  By  heaven  !  and  I  let  him  go  !" 

" How  do  you  know  'twas  he?" 

"  Who  else  could  it  be,  Armitage?" 

"  That's  what  the  colonel  asks  ;  but  it  isn't  clear  to  me  yet  awhile." 
22* 


268  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  I  wish  it  were  less  clear  to  me,"  said  Chester,  gloomily.  "  The 
worst  is  that  the  story  is  spreading  like  a  pestilence  all  over  the  post,. 
The  women  have  got  hold  of  it,  and  there  is  all  manner  of  talk.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Mrs.  Hoyt  had  to  be  taken  violently  ill.  She 
has  written  to  invite  Miss  Renwick  to  visit  her,  as  it  is  certain  that 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Maynard  cannot  come,  and  Hoyt  came  to  me  in  a 
horror  of  amaze  yesterday  to  know  if  there  were  any  truth  in  the  rumor 
that  I  had  caught  a  man  coming  out  of  Mrs.  Maynard's  window  the 
other  night.  I  would  tell  him  nothing,  and  he  says  the  ladies  de<  lare 
they  won't  go  to  the  german  if  she  does.  Heavens  !  I'm  thankful  you 
are  come.  The  thing  has  been  driving  me  wild  these  last  twelve  hours. 
I  wanted  to  go  away  myself.  Is  she  coming  up  ?" 

"  No,  she  isn't ;  but  let  me  say  this,  Chester :  that  whenever  she  is 
ready  to  return  I  shall  be  ready  to  escort  her." 

Chester  looked  at  his  friend  in  amazement,  and  without  speaking. 

"  Yes,  I  see  you  are  astonished,  but  you  may  as  well  understand  the 
situation.  I  have  heard  all  the  colonel  could  tell,  and  have  even  seen 
the  letter,  and  since  she  left  here  a  mysterious  stranger  has  appeared  by 
night  at  Sablon,  at  the  cottage  window,  though  it  happened  to  be  her 
mother's  this  time,  and  I  don't  believe  Alice  Ilenwick  knows  the  first 
thing  about  it." 

"  Armitage,  are  you  in  love  ?" 

"  Chester,  I  am  in  my  sound  senses.  Now  come  and  show  me  the 
ladder,  and  where  you  found  it,  and  tell  me  the  whole  story  over  again. 
I  think  it  grows  interesting.  One  moment :  has  he  that  picture  yet  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so.  I  don't  know.  In  these  last  few  days  everybody 
is  fighting  shy  of  him.  He  thinks  it  is  my  doing,  and  looks  black 
and  sulky  at  me,  but  is  too  proud  or  too  much  afraid  of  consequences  to 
ask  the  reason  of  the  cold  shoulders  and  averted  looks.  Gray  has  taken 
seven  days'  leave  and  gone  off  with  that  little  girl  of  his  to  place  her 
with  relatives  in  the  East.  He  has  heard  the  stories,  and  it  is  pre- 
sumed that  some  of  the  women  have  told  her.  She  was  down  sick 
here  a  day  or  two." 

"Well,  now  for  the  window  and  the  ladder.  I  want  to  see  the 
outside  through  your  eyes,  and  then  I  will  view  the  interior  with  my 
own.  The  colonel  bids  me  do  so." 

Together  they  slowly  climbed  the  long  stairway  leading  up  the  face 
of  the  cliff.  Chester  stopped  for  a  breathing-spell  more  than  once. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  259 

"You're  all  out  of  condition,  man,"  said  the  younger  captain, 
pausing  impatiently.  "  What  has  undone  you  ?" 

"  This  trouble,  and  nothing  else.  By  gad !  it  has  unstrung  the 
whole  garrison,  I  believe.  You  never  saw  our  people  fall  off  so  in 
their  shooting.  Of  course  we  expected  Jerrold  to  go  to  pieces,  but 
nobody  else." 

"There  were  others  that  seemed  to  fall  away,  too.  Where  was 
that  cavalry-team  that  was  expected  to  take  the  skirmish  medal  away 
from  us?" 

"  Sound  as  a  dollar,  every  man,  with  the  single  exception  of  their 
big  sergeant.  I  don't  like  to  make  ugly  comparisons  to  a  man  whom 
I  believe  to  be  more  than  half  interested  in  a  woman,  but  it  makes 
me  think  of  the  old  story  about  Medusa.  One  look  at  her  face  is  too 
much  for  a  man.  That  Sergeant  McLeod  went  to  grass  the  instant  he 
caught  sight  of  her,  and  never  has  picked  up  since." 

"  Consider  me  considerably  more  than  half  interested  in  the  woman 
in  this  case,  Chester  :  make  all  the  comparisons  that  you  like,  provided 
they  illumine  matters  as  you  are  doing  now,  and  tell  me  more  of  this 
Sergeant  McLeod.  What  do  you  mean  by  his  catching  sight  of  her  and 
going  to  grass  ?" 

"  I  mean  he  fell  flat  on  his  face  the  moment  he  saw  her,  and  hasn't 
been  in  good  form  from  that  moment  to  this.  The  doctor  says  it's 
heart-disease." 

"  That's  what  the  colonel  says  troubles  Mrs.  Maynard.  She  was 
senseless  and  almost  pulseless  some  minutes  last  night.  What  manner 
of  man  is  McLeod  ?" 

"A  tall,  slim,  dark-eyed,  swarthy  fellow, — a  man  with  a  history 
and  a  mystery,  I  judge." 

"  A  man  with  a  history, — a  mystery, — who  is  tall,  slim,  has  dark 
eyes  and  swarthy  complexion,  and  faints  away  at  sight  of  Miss  Ren- 
wick,  might  be  said  to  possess  peculiar  characteristics, — family  traits, 
Borne  of  them.  Of  course  you've  kept  an  eye  on  McLeod.  Where  is 
he?" 

Chester  stood  leaning  on  the  rail,  breathing  slowly  and  heavily. 
His  eyes  dilated  as  he  gazed  at  Armitage,  who  was  surveying  him 
coolly,  though  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke  betrayed  a  new  interest  and 
a  vivid  one. 

"  I  confess  I  never  thought  of  him  in  connection  with  this  aflair/' 
said  Chester. 


260  FROM  THE  EANKS. 

"  There's  the  one  essential  point  of  difference  between  us,"  was  the 
reply.  "  You  go  in  on  the  supposition  that  there  is  only  one  solution 
to  this  thing,  and  that  a  woman  must  be  dishonored  to  begin  with.  I 
believe  there  can  be  several  solutions,  and  that  there  is  only  one  thing 
in  the  lot  that  is  at  all  impossible." 

"What's  that?" 

"Miss  Ren  wick's  knowledge  of  that  night's  visitor,  or  of  any 
r  other  secret  or  sin.  I  mean  to  work  other  theories  first ;  and  the 
McLeod  trail  is  a  good  one  to  start  on.  Where  can  I  get  a  look  at 
him?" 

"  Somewhere  out  in  the  Rockies  by  this  time.  He  was  ordered  back 
to  his  troop  five  days  ago,  and  they  are  out  scouting  at  this  moment, 
unless  I'm  vastly  mistaken.  You  have  seen  the  morning  despatches  ?" 

"About  the  Indians?  Yes.  Looks  squally  at  the  Spirit  Rock 
reservation.  Do  you  mean  that  McLeod  is  there  ?" 

"  That's  where  his  troop  ought  to  be  by  this  time.  There  is  too 
small  a  force  on  the  trail  now,  and  more  will  have  to  go  if  a  big  out- 
break is  to  be  prevented." 

"  Then  he  has  gone,  and  I  cannot  see  him.  Let  me  look  at  the 
window,  then." 

A  few  steps  brought  them  to  the  terrace,  and  there,  standing  by  the 
west  wall  and  looking  up  at  the  closed  slats  of  the  dormer-window, 
Captain  Chester  retold  the  story  of  his  night-adventure.  Armitage 
listened  attentively,  asking  few  questions.  When  it  was  finished,  the 
latter  turned  and  walked  to  the  rear  door,  which  opened  on  the  terrace. 
It  was  locked. 

"The  servants  are  having  a  holiday,  I  presume,"  he  said.  "So 
much  the  better.  Ask  the  quartermaster  for  the  key  of  the  front  door, 
and  I'll  go  in  while  everybody  is  out  looking  at  dress-parade.  There 
goes  first  call  now.  Let  your  orderly  bring  it  to  me  here,  will  you  ?" 

Ten  minutes  later,  with  beating  heart,  he  stood  and  uncovered  his 
handsome  head  and  gazed  silently,  reverently  around  him.  He  was  in 
her  room. 

It  was  dainty  as  her  own  dainty  self.  The  dressing-table,  the 
windows,  the  pretty  little  white  bed,  the  broad,  inviting  lounge,  the 
work-table  and  basket,  the  very  wash-stand,  were  all  trimmed  and 
decked  alike, — white  and  yellow  prevailing:.  White  lace  curtains 
draped  the  window  on  the  west — that  fateful  window — and  the  two 
that  opened  out  on  the  roof  of  the  piazza.  White  lace  curtaias  draped 


FROM  THE  HANKS.  261 

the  bed,  the  dressing-table,  and  the  wash-stand ;  white  lace,  or  some 
equally  flimsy  and  feminine  material,  hung  about  her  book-shelves  and 
work-table  and  over  the  lounge ;  and  bows  of  bright  yellow  ribbon 
were  everywhere,  yellow  pin -cushions  and  wall-pockets  hung  about  the 
toilet-table,  soft  yellow  rugs  lay  at  the  bed-  and  lounge-side,  and  a  sun- 
shiny tone  was  given  to  the  whole  apartment  by  the  shades  of  yellow 
silk  that  hung  close  to  the  windows. 

On  the  wall  were  some  choice  etchings  and  a  few  foreign  photographs. 
On  the  book-shelves  were  a  few  volumes  of  poetry,  and  the  prose  of 
George  Eliot  and  our  own  Hawthorne.  Hanging  on  pegs  in  the  corner 
of  the  simple  army  room,  covered  by  a  curtain,  were  some  heavy  outer- 
garments, — an  ulster,  a  travelling  coat  and  cape  of  English  make,  and 
one  or  two  dresses  that  were  apparently  too  thick  to  be  used  at  this 
season  of  the  year.  He  drew  aside  the  curtain  one  moment,  took  a 
brief  glance  at  the  garments,  raised  the  hem  of  a  skirt  to  his  lips,  and 
turned  quickly  away.  A  door  led  from  the  room  to  the  one  behind  it, 
— a  spare  bedroom,  evidently,  that  was  lighted  only  from  the  back  of 
the  house  and  had  no  side-window  at  all.  Another  door  led  to  the  hall, 
a  broad,  old-fashioned  affair,  and  crossing  this  he  stood  in  the  big  front 
room  occupied  by  the  colonel  and  his  wife.  This  was  furnished  almost 
as  luxuriously  (from  an  army  point  of  view)  as  that  of  Miss  Renwick, 
but  not  in  white  and  yellow.  Armitage  smiled  to  see  the  evidences  of 
Mrs.  Maynard's  taste  and  handiwork  on  every  side.  In  the  years  he 
had  been  the  old  soldier's  adjutant  nothing  could  have  exceeded  the 
simplicity  with  which  the  colonel  surrounded  himself.  Now  it  was 
something  akin  to  Sybaritish  elegance,  thought  the  captain ;  but  all  the 
same  he  made  his  deliberate  survey.  There  was  the  big  dressing-table 
and  bureau  on  which  had  stood  that  ravished  picture, — that  photograph 
of  the  girl  he  loved  which  others  were  able  to  speak  of,  and  one  man  to 
appropriate  feloniously,  while  yet  he  had  never  seen  it.  His  impulse 
was  to  go  to  Jerrold's  quarters  and  take  him  by  the  throat  and  demand 
it  of  him  ;  but  what  right  had  he  ?  How  knew  he,  even,  that  it  was 
now  there  ?  In  view  of  the.  words  that  Chester  had  used  towards  him, 
Jerrold  must  know  of  the  grievous  danger  in  which  he  stood.  That 
photograph  would  prove  most  damaging  evidence  if  discovered.  Very 
probably,  after  yielding  to  his  vanity  and  showing  it  to  Sloat  he  meant 
to  get  it  back.  Very  certainly,  after  hearing  Chester's  words  he  must 
have  determined  to  lose  no  time  in  getting  rid  of  it.  He  was  no  fool, 
if  he  was  a  coxcomb. 


262  FROM  THE  HANKS. 

Looking  around  the  half-darkened  room,  Armitage  lingered  long 
over  the  photographs  which  hung  about  the  dressing-table  and  over  the 
mantel, — several  prettily-framed  duplicates  of  those  already  described 
as  appearing  in  the  album.  One  after  another  he  took  them  in  his 
hands,  bore  them  to  the  window,  and  studied  them  attentively :  some 
were  not  replaced  without  a  long,  lingering  kiss.  He  had  not  ventured 
to  disturb  an  item  in  her  room.  He  would  not  touch  the  knob  of  a 
drawer  or  attempt  to  open  anything  she  had  closed,  but  here  in  quarters 
where  his  colonel  could  claim  joint  partnership  he  felt  less  sentiment  or 
delicacy.  He  closed  the  hall  door  and  tried  the  lock,  turning  the  knob 
to  and  fro.  Then  he  reopened  the  door  and  swung  it  upon  its  hinges. 
For  a  wonder,  neither  lock  nor  hinges  creaked.  The  door  worked 
smoothly  and  with  little  noise.  Then  he  similarly  tried  the  door  of 
her  room.  It  was  in  equally  good  working  order, — quite  free  from  the 
squeak  and  complaint  with  which  quartermasters'  locks  and  hinges 
are  apt  to  do  their  reluctant  duty.  The  discovery  pleased  him.  It 
was  possible  for  one  to  open  and  close  these  portals  noiselessly,  if  need 
be,  and  without  disturbing  sleepers  in  either  room.  Returning  to  the 
east  chamber,  he  opened  the  shades,  so  as  to  get  more  light,  and  his  eye 
fell  upon  an  old  album  lying  on  a  little  table  that  stood  by  the  bedside. 
There  was  a  night-lamp  upon  the  table,  too, — a  little  aifair  that  could 
hold  only  a  thimbleful  of  oil  and  was  intended,  evidently,  to  keep 
merely  a  faint  glow  during  the  night  hours.  Other  volumes — a  Bible, 
some  devotional  books,  like  "  The  Changed  Cross,"  and  a  Hymnal  or 
two — were  also  there ;  but  the  album  stood  most  prominent,  and  Armi- 
tage curiously  took  it  up  and  opened  it. 

There  were  only  half  a  dozen  photographs  in  the  affair.  It  was 
rather  a  case  than  an  album,  and  was  intended  apparently  for  only  a 
few  family  pictures.  There  was  but  one  that  interested  him,  and  this 
he  examined  intently,  almost  excitedly.  It  represented  a  little  girl  of 
nine  or  ten  years, — Alice,  undoubtedly, — with  her  arms  clasped  about 
the  neck  of  a  magnificent  St.  Bernard  dog  and  looking  up  into  the 
handsome  features  of  a  tall,  slender,  dark-eyed,  black-haired  boy  of 
sixteen  or  thereabouts ;  and  the  two  were  enough  alike  to  be  brother 
and  sister.  Who,  then,  was  this  boy  ? 

Armitage  took  the  photograph  to  the  window  and  studied  it  care- 
fully. Parade  was  over,  and  the  troops  were  marching  back  to  their 
quarters.  The  band  was  playing  gloriously  as  it  came  tramping  into 
tiie  quadrangle,  and  the  captain  could  not  but  glance  out  at  his  own  old 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  263 

company  as  in  compact  column  of  fours  it  entered  the  grasSy  diamond 
and  swung  off  towards  the  barracks.  He  saw  a  knot  of  officers,  too, 
turning  the  corner  by  the  adjutant's  office,  and  for  a  moment  he  lowered 
the  album  to  look.  Mr.  Jerrold  was  not  of  the  number  that  came 
sauntering  up  the  walk,  dropping  away  by  ones  or  twos  as  they 
reached  their  doors  and  unbuckled  their  belts  or  removed  their  helmets 
in  eager  haste  to  get  out  of  the  constraint  of  full  dress.  But  in  an- 
other moment  Jerrold,  too,  appeared,  all  alone,  walking  rapidly  and 
nervously.  Armitage  watched  him,  and  could  not  but  see  how  other 
'men  turned  away  or  gave  him  the  coolest  possible  nod  as  he  passed. 
The  tall,  slender  lieutenant  was  handsomer  even  than  when  he  last  saw 
him ;  and  yet  there  was  gloom  and  worry  on  the  dark  beauty  of  his 
face.  Nearer  and  nearer  he  came,  and  had  passed  the  quarters  of  the 
other  officers  and  was  almost  at  the  door  of  his  own,  when  Armitage 
saw  a  little,  wiry  soldier  in  full  dress  uniform  running  across  the  parade 
as  though  in  pursuit.  He  recognized  Merrick,  one  of  the  scapegraces 
of  his  company,  and  wondered  why  he  should  be  chasing  after  his  tem- 
porary commander.  Just  as  Jerrold  was  turning  under  the  piazza  the 
soldier  seemed  to  make  himself  heard,  and  the  lieutenant,  with  an  angry 
frown  on  his  face,  stopped  and  confronted  him. 

"  I  told  you  not  to  come  to  me  again,"  he  said,  so  loud  that  every 
word  was  audible  to  the  captain  standing  by  the  open  window  above. 
"  What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  following  me  in  this  way  ?" 

The  reply  was  inaudible.  Armitage  could  see  the  little  soldier 
standing  in  the  respectful  position  of  "  attention,"  looking  up  and  evi- 
dently pleading. 

"  I  won't  do  it  until  I'm  ready,"  was  again  heard  in  Jerrold's  angry 
tones,  though  this  time  the  lieutenant  glanced  about,  as  though  to  see  if 
others  were  within  earshot.  There  was  no  one,  apparently,  and  he  grew 
more  confident.  "  You've  been  drinking  again  to-day,  Merrick ;  you're 
not  sober  now ;  and  I  won't  give  you  money  to  get  maudlin  and  go  to 
blabbing  secrets  on.  No,  sir  !  Go  back  to  your  quarters,  and  stay  there." 

The  little  soldier  must  indeed  have  been  drinking,  as  the  lieutenant 
declared.  Armitage  saw  that  he  hesitated,  instead  of  obeying  at  once, 
and  that  his  flushed  face  was  angrily  working,  then  that  he  was  argu- 
ing with  his  superior  and  talking  louder.  This  was  contrary  to  all  the 
captain's  ideas  of  proper  discipline,  even  though  he  was  indignant  at  the 
officer  for  permitting  himself  to  be  placed  in  so  false  and  undignified  a 
position.  Jerrold's  words,  too,  had  acquired  a  wide  significance ;  but 


264  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

they  were  feeble  as  compared  with  the  sudden  outburst  that  came  from 
the  soldier's  lips : 

"  By  God,  lieutenant,  you  bribed  me  to  silence  to  cover  your  tracks, 
and  then  you  refuse  to  pay.  If  you  don't  want  me  to  tell  what  I  know, 
the  sooner  you  pay  that  money  the  better." 

This  was  more  than  Armitage  could  stand.  He  went  down-stairs 
three  at  a  jump  and  out  through  the  colonel's  garden  with  quick,  im- 
petuous steps.  Jerrold's  furious  face  turned  ashen  at  the  sight,  and 
Merrick,  with  one  amazed  and  frightened  look  at  his  captain,  faced 
about  and  slunk  silently  away.  To  him  Armitage  paid  no  further 
attention.  It  was  to  the  officer  he  addressed  himself: 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  I  have  heard  pretty  much  all  this  conversation.  It 
simply  adds  to  the  evil  report  with  which  you  have  managed  to  sur- 
round yourself.  Step  into  your  quarters.  I  must  see  you  alone." 

Jerrold  hesitated.  He  was  thunderstruck  by  the  sudden  appearance 
of  the  captain  whom  he  had  believed  to  be  hundreds  of  miles  away.  He 
connected  his  return  unerringly  with  the  web  of  trouble  which  had  been 
weaving  about  him  of  late.  He  conceived  himself  to  have  been  most 
unjustly  spied  upon  and  suspected,  and  was  full  of  resentment  at  the 
conduct  of  Captain  Chester.  But  Chester  was  an  old  granny,  who 
sometimes  made  blunders  and  had  to  back  down.  It  was  a  different 
thing  when  Armitage  took  hold.  Jerrold  looked  sulkily  into  the  clear, 
stern,  blue  eyes  a  moment,  and  the  first  impulse  of  rebellion  wilted. 
He  gave  one  irresolute  glance  around  the  quadrangle,  then  motioned 
with  his  hand  to  the  open  door.  Something  of  the  old,  jaunty,  Creole 
lightness  of  manner  reasserted  itself. 

"  After  you,  captain,"  he  said. 

XIII. 

Once  withm-doors,  it  was  too  dark  for  Armitage  to  see  the  features 
of  his  lieutenant ;  and  he  had  his  own  reasons  for  desiring  to  read 
them.  Mr.  Jerrold,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed  disposed  to  keep  in 
the  shadows  as  much  as  possible.  He  made  no  movement  to  open  tfcs 
shutters  of  the  one  window  which  admitted  light  from  the  front,  and 
walked  back  to  his  bedroom  door,  glanced  in  there  as  though  to  see 
that  there  were  no  occupants,  then  carefully  closed  it  as  he  returned  to 
face  his  captain.  He  took  ofi'  his  helmet  and  placed  it  on  the  centre- 
table,  then,  thrusting  his  thumbs  inside  the  handsome,  gold-broidered 
Isword-belt,  stood  in  a  jaunty  attitude  but  with  a  very  uneasy  look  in 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  265 

his  eyes  to  hear  what  his  senior  might  have  to  say.  Between  the  two 
men  an  invitation  to  sit  would  have  been  a  superfluity.  Neither  had 
ever  remained  long  enough  in  the  other's  quarters,  since  the  exchange 
of  the  first  calls  when  Jerrold  came  to  the  garrison,  to  render  a  chair 
at  all  necessary. 

"  Be  good  enough  to  strike  a  light,  Mr.  Jerrold,"  said  Armitage, 
presently,  seeing  that  his  unwilling  host  made  no  effort  on  his  own 
account. 

"  I  proposed  going  out  at  once,  captain,  and  presume  you  cannot 
have  any  very  extended  remarks  to  make." 

"  You  cannot  see  the  writing  I  have  to  call  your  attention  to  with- 
out a  light.  I  shall  detain  you  no  longer  than  is  necessary.  Had  you 
an  engagement?" 

"  Nothing  of  great  consequence.     I  presume  it  will  keep." 

"  It  will  have  to.  The  matter  I  have  come  upon  will  admit  no 
further  delay.  Light  your  lamp,  if  you  please." 

And  Jerrold  did  so,  slowly  and  with  much  reluctance.  He  wiped 
his  forehead  vigorously  the  instant  the  flame  began  to  splutter,  but  as 
the  clear,  steady  light  of  the  argand  gradually  spread  over  the  little 
room.  Armitage  could  see  the  sweat  again  beading  his  forehead,  and  the 
dark  eyes  were  glancing  nervously  about,  and  the  hands  that  were  so 
firm  and  steady  and  fine  the  year  before  and  held  the  Springfield  in  so 
light  yet  immovable  an  aim  were  twitching  now.  It  was  no  wonder 
Jerrold's  score  had  dropped  some  thirty  per  cent.  His  nerve  had  gone 
to  pieces. 

Armitage  stood  and  watched  him  a  moment.  Then  he  slowly 
spoke : 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  allude  io  the  subject  of  your  conversation 
with  Merrick.  It  was  to  put  an  end  to  such  a  thing — not  to  avail 
myself  of  any  information  it  might  give — that  I  hurried  in.  We  will 
put  that  aside  and  go  at  once  to  the  matter  that  brings  me  back.  You 
are  aware,  of  course,  that  your  conduct  has  compromised  a  woman's 
riame,  and  that  the  garrison  is  talking  of  nothing  else." 

Jerrold  grasped  the  back  of  a  chair  with  one  slender  brown  hand, 
and  looked  furtively  about  as  though  for  some  hope  of  escape.  Some- 
thing like  a  startled  gulp  seemed  to  work  his  throat-muscles  an  instant ; 
then  he  stammered  his  reply  : 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  You  do  know  what  I  mean.  Captain  Chester  has  already  told  you." 
M  23 


266  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  Captain  Chester  came  in  here  and  made  an  unauthorized  inspec- 
tion of  my  quarters  because  he  heard  a  shot  fired  by  a  sentry.  I  was 
out :  I  don't  deny  that.  But  he  proceeded  to  say  all  manner  of  insult- 
ing and  unwarrantable  things,  and  tried  to  force  me  to  hand  in  a  resig- 
nation, simply  because  I  was  out  of  quarters  after  taps.  I  could  ac- 
count for  his  doing  something  so  idiotic,  but  I'm  at  a  loss  to  compre- 
hend your  taking  it  up." 

"  The  most  serious  allegation  ever  made  against  an  officer  of  the 
regiment  is  made  against  you,  the  senior  lieutenant  of  my  company, 
and  the  evidence  furnished  me  by  the  colonel  and  by  Captain  Chester 
is  of  such  a  character  that,  unless  you  can  refute  it  and  clear  her  name, 
you  will  have  a  settlement  with  me  to  start  with,  and  youi  dismissal 
from  the  regiment " 

"  Settlement  with  you  ?  What  concern  have  you  in  the  matter  ?" 
interrupted  Jerrold. 

"Waste  no  words  on  that,  Mr.  Jerrold.  Understand  that  where 
her  name  is  concerned  no  man  on  earth  is  more  interested  than  I.  Now 
answer  me.  You  were  absent  from  youi  quarters  for  some  hours  after 
the  doctor's  party.  Somebody  believed  to  have  been  you  was  seen  and 
fired  at  for  refusing  to  halt  at  the  order  of  Captain  Chester  at  3.30  in 
the  morning.  The  ladder  that  usually  hung  at  your  fence  was  found  at 
the  colonel's  while  you  were  out,  and  that  night  a  woman's  name  was 
compromised  beyond  repair  unless  you  can  repair  it.  Unless  you  prove 
beyond  perad venture  where  you  were  both  that  night  and  last  night, — 
prove  beyond  question  that  you  were  not  where  you  are  believed  to 
have  been, — her  name  is  stained  and  yours  blackened  forever.  There 
are  other  things  you  must  fully  explain  ;  but  these  first." 

Jerrold's  face  was  growing  gray  and  sickly.  He  stared  at  the  stern 
eyes  before  him,  and  could  make  no  answer.  His  lips  moved  dryly, 
but  made  no  sound. 

"  Come,  I  want  to  hear  from  you.  Where  were  you,  if  not  with,  or 
necking,  her  ?  Name  your  place  and  witnesses." 

"  By  God,  Captain  Armitage,  the  army  is  no  longer  a  place  for  a 
gentleman,  if  his  every  movement  is  to  be  spied  upon  like  this  !" 

"  The  world  is  no  place  for  a  man  of  your  stamp,  is  perhaps  a  better 
way  of  putting  it,"  said  Armitage,  whose  fingers  were  twitching  con- 
vulsively, and  whose  whole  frame  quivered  with  the  effort  he  was 
making  to  restrain  the  rage  and  indignation  that  consumed  him.  Hu 
not — he  would  not — believe  in  her  guilt.  He  must  have  this 


FROM  THE  BANKS.  267 

man's  proof,  no  matter  how  it  might  damn  him  for  good  and  all,  no 
matter  whom  else  it  might  involve,  so  long  as  it  cleared  her  precious 
name.  He  must  be  patient,  he  must  be  calm  and  resolute ;  but  the 
man's  cold-blooded,  selfish,  criminal  concealment  nearly  maddened 
him.  With  infinite  effort  he  controlled  himself,  and  went  on  : 

"  But  it  is  of  her  I'm  thinking,  not  of  you.  It  is  the  name  you 
have  compromised  and  can  clear,  and  should  clear,  even  at  the  expense 
of  your  own, — in  fact,  Mr.  Jerrold,  must  clear.  Now  will  you  tell 
me  where  you  were  and  how  you  can  prove  it  ?" 

"  I  decline  to  say.  I  won't  be  cross-questioned  by  men  who  have 
no  authority.  Captain  Chester  said  he  would  refer  it  to  the  colonel ; 
and  when  he  asks  I  will  answer, — not  until  then." 

"  I  ask  in  his  name.  I  am  authorized  by  him,  for  he  is  not  well 
enough  to  meet  the  ordeal." 

"  You  say  so,  and  I  don't  mean  to  dispute  your  word,  Captain 
Armitage,  but  I  have  a  right  to  demand  some  proof.  How  am  I  to 
know  he  authorized  you  ?" 

"  He  himself  gave  me  this  letter,  in  your  handwriting,"  said  Armi- 
tage ;  and,  opening  the  long  envelope,  he  held  forth  the  missive  over 
which  the  poor  old  colonel  had  gone  nearly  wild.  "  He  found  it  the 
morning  they  left, — in  her  garden." 

If  Jerrold's  face  had  been  gray  before,  it  was  simply  ghastly  now. 
He  recoiled  from  the  sight  after  one  fruitless  effort  to  grasp  the  letter, 
then  rallied  with  unlooked-for  spirit : 

"  By  heaven,  Armitage,  suppose  I  did  write  that  letter  ?  What 
does  it  prove  but  what  I  say, — that  somebody  has  been  prying  and 
spying  into  my  affairs  ?  How  came  the  colonel  by  it,  if  not  by  fraud 
or  treachery  ?" 

"  He  picked  it  up  in  the  garden,  I  tell  you, — among  the  rose-bushes, 
where  she — where  Miss  Ren  wick  had  been  but  a  few  moments  before, 
and  where  it  might  appear  that  she  had  dropped  it." 

"She!  That  letter!  What  had  she  to  do  with  it ?  What  right 
had  she  to  read  it  ?" 

Armitage  stepped  impulsively  forward.  A  glad,  glorious  light  was 
bursting  upon  his  soul.  He  could  almost  have  seized  Jerrold's  hand  and 
thanked  him ;  but  proofs — proofs  were  what  he  needed.  It  was  not  his 
mind  that  was  to  be  convinced,  it  was  "  society"  that  must  be  satisfied 
of  her  utter  innocence,  that  it  might  be  enabled  to  say,  "  Well,  I  nevel 


268  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

for  a  moment  believed  a  word  of  it."     Link  by  link  the  chain  of  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  must  be  destroyed,  and  this  was  only  one. 

"  You  mean  that  that  letter  was  not  intended  for  Miss  Renwick  ?" 
he  asked,  with  eagerness  he  strove  hard  to  repress. 

"  It  was  never  meant  for  anybody,"  said  Jerrold,  the  color  coming 
back  to  his  face  and  courage  to  his  eyes.  "  That  letter  was  never 
sent  by  me  to  any  woman.  It's  my  writing,  of  course,  I  can't  deny 
that ;  but  I  never  even  meant  it  to  go.  If  it  left  that  desk  it  must 
have  been  stolen.  I've  been  hunting  high  and  low  for  it.  I  knew 
that  such  a  thing  lying  around  loose  would  be  the  cause  of  mischief. 
God  !  is  tlwd  what  all  this  fuss  is  about?"  And  he  looked  warily, 
yet  with  infinite  anxiety,  into  his  captain's  eyes. 

"There  is  far  more  to  it,  as  you  well  know,  sir,"  was  the  stern 
answer.  "  For  whom  was  this  written,  if  not  for  her  ?  It  won't  do  to 
half  clear  her  name." 

"  Answer  me  this,  Captain  Armitage.  Do  you  mean  that  that  letter 
has  compromised  Miss  Renwick  ? — that  it  is  she  whose  name  has  been 
involved,  and  that  it  was  of  her  that  Chester  meant  to  speak  ?" 

"  Certainly  it  was, — and  I  too." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence;  then  Jerrold  began  to  laugh  ner- 
vously : 

"  Oh,  well,  I  fancy  it  isn't  the  first  time  the  revered  and  respected 
captain  has  got  away  off  the  track.  All  the  same  I  do  not  mean  to 
overlook  his  language  to  me ;  and  I  may  say  right  now,  Captain  Armi- 
tage, that  yours,  too,  calls  for  explanation." 

"  You  shall  have  it  in  short  order,  Mr.  Jerrold,  and  the  sooner  you 
understand  the  situation  the  better.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  Misa 
Renwick  needed  no  defender ;  but,  thanks  to  your  mysterious  and  un- 
warranted absence  from  quarters  two  very  unlucky  nights,  and  to  other 
circumstances  I  have  no  need  to  name,  and  to  your  penchant  for  letter- 
writing  of  a  most  suggestive  character,  it  is  Miss  Renwick  whose  name 
has  been  brought  into  question  here  at  this  post,  and  most  prominently 
so.  In  plain  words,  Mr.  Jerrold,  you  who  brought  this  trouble  upon 
her  by  your  own  misconduct  must  clear  her,  no  matter  at  whose  ex- 
pense, or " 

"Or  what?" 

"  I  make  HO  threats.  I  prefer  that  you  should  make  the  proper 
explanations  from  a  proper  sense  of  what  is  due." 

"  And  suppose  I  say  that  no  man  is  called  upon  to  explain  a  situa- 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  269 

tion  which  has  been  distorted  and  misrepresented  by  the  evil  imagination 
of  his  fellows?" 

"Then  I  may  have  to  wring  the  truth  out  of  you, — and  will ;  but, 
for  her  sake,  I  want  as  little  publicity  as  possible.  After  this  display 
on  your  part,  I  am  not  bound  to  show  you  any  consideration  whatever. 
Understand  this,  however :  the  array  of  evidence  that  you  were  felo- 
niously inside  Colonel  Maynard's  quarters  that  night  and  at  his  cottage 
window  last  night  is  of  such  a  character  that  a  court  would  convict  you 
unless  your  alibi  was  conclusive.  Leave  the  service  you  certainly  shall, 
unless  this  whole  thing  is  cleared  up." 

"  I  never  was  anywhere  near  Colonel  Maynard's  either  last  night 
or  the  other  night  I  was  absent." 

"  You  will  have  to  prove  it.  Mere  denials  won't  help  you  in  the 
face  of  such  evidence  as  we  have  that  you  were  there  the  first  time." 

"What  evidence?" 

"  The  photograph  that  was  stolen  from  Mrs.  Maynard  between  two 
and  four  o'clock  that  morning  was  seen  hi  your  drawer  by  Major  Sloat 
at  reveille.  You  were  fool  enough  to  show  it  to  him." 

"Captain  Armitage,  I  shall  be  quite  able  to  show,  when  the  proper 
time  comes,  that  the  photograph  I  showed  Major  Sloat  was  not  stolen : 
it  was  given  me." 

"  That  is  beyond  belief,  Mr.  Jerrold.  Once  and  for  all,  understand 
this  case.  You  have  compromised  her  good  name  by  the  very  mystery 
of  your  actions.  You  have  it  in  your  power  to  clear  her  by  proving 
where  you  were,  since  you  were  not  near  her, — by  showing  how  you  got 
that  photograph, — by  explaining  how  you  came  to  write  so  strange  a 
letter.  Now  I  say  to  you,  will  you  do  it,  instantly,  or  must  we  wring 
it  from  you  ?" 

A  sneering  smile  was  the  only  answer  for  a  moment ;  then, — 

"  I  shall  take  great  pleasure  in  confounding  my  enemies  should  the 
matter  be  brought  before  a  court, — I'm  sure  if  the  colonel  can  stand 
that  sort  of  thing  I  can, — but  as  for  defending  myself  or  anybody  else 
from  utterly  unjust  and  proofless  suspicions,  it's  quite  another  thing." 

"  Good  God,  Jerrold  !  do  you  realize  what  a  position  you  are  taking  ? 
Do  you " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,  captain,"  was  the  airy  reply,  "  not  at  all.  It  is 
not  a  position  I  have  taken  :  it  is  one  into  which  you  misguided  con 
spirators  have  forced  me.  I  certainly  am  not  required  to  compromise 
anybody  else  in  order  to  relieve  a  suspicion  which  you,  not  I,  have 

23* 


270  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

created.  How  do  you  know  that  there  may  not  be  some  other  woman 
whose  name  I  propose  to  guard  ?  You  have  been  really  very  nattering 
in  your  theories  so  far." 

Armitage  could  bear  no  more.  The  airy  conceit  and  insolence  of 
the  man  overcame  all  self-restraint  and  resolution.  With  one  bound 
he  was  at  his  throat,  his  strong  white  hands  grasping  him  in  a  sudden, 
vice-like  grip,  then  hurling  him  with  stunning,  thundering  force  to 
the  floor.  Down,  headlong,  went  the  tall  lieutenant,  his  sword  clat- 
tering by  his  side,  his  slim  brown  hands  clutching  wildly  at  anything 
that  might  bear  him  up,  and  dragging  with  him  in  his  catastrophe  a 
rack  of  hunting-pouches,  antlers,  and  one  heavy  double-barrelled  shot- 
gun. All  came  tumbling  down  about  the  struggling  form,  and  Armi- 
tage, glaring  down  at  him  with  clinching  fists  and  rasping  teeth,  had 
only  time  to  utter  one  deep-drawn  malediction  when  he  noted  that 
the  struggles  ceased  and  Jerrold  lay  quite  still.  Then  the  blood  began 
to  ooze  from  a  jagged  cut  near  the  temple,  and  it  was  evident  that  the 
hammer  of  the  gun  had  struck  him. 

Another  moment,  and  the  door  opened,  and  with  anxious  face  Ches- 
ter strode  into  the  room.  "  You  haven't  killed  him,  Armitage  ?  Is  it 
as  bad  as  that?" 

"  Pick  him  up,  and  we'll  get  him  on  the  bed.  He's  only  stunned. 
I  didn't  even  hit  him.  Those  things  tumbled  afterwards,"  said  Armi- 
tage, as  between  them  they  raised  the  dead  weight  of  the  slender  Adonis 
in  their  arms  and  bore  him  to  the  bedroom.  Here  they  bathed  the 
wound  with  cold  water  and  removed  the  uniform  coat,  and  presently 
the  lieutenant  began  to  revive  and  look  about  him. 

"  Who  struck  me?"  he  faintly  asked. 

"  Your  shot-gun  fell  on  your  head,  but  I  threw  you  down,  Jerrold. 
I'm  sorry  I  touched  you,  but  you're  lucky  it  was  no  worse.  This 
thing  is  going  to  raise  a  big  bump  here.  Shall  I  send  the  doctor  ?" 

"  No.  I'll  come  round  presently.  We'll  see  about  this  thing  after- 
wards." 

"  Is  there  any  friend  you  want  to  see  ?  Shall  I  send  word  to  any- 
body ?"  asked  Chester. 

"No.  Don't  let  anybody  come.  Tell  my  striker  to  bring  my 
breakfast ;  but  I  want  nothing  to-night  but  to  be  let  alone." 

"  At  least  you  will  let  me  help  you  undress  and  get  to  bed  ?"  said 
Chester. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  271 

"No.  I  wish  you'd  go, — both  of  you.  I  want  quiet, — peace,— 
and  there's  none  of  it  with  either  of  you." 

And  so  they  left  him.  Later  Captain  Chester  had  gone  to  the 
quarters,  and,  after  much  parleying  from  without,  had  gained  admission. 
Jerrold's  head  was  bound  in  a  bandage  wet  with  arnica  and  water.  He 
had  been  solacing  himself  with  a  pipe  and  a  whiskey  toddy,  and  was  in 
a  not  unnaturally  ugly  mood. 

"  You  may  consider  yourself  excused  from  duty  until  your  face  is 
well  again,  by  which  time  this  matter  will  be  decided.  I  admonish 
you  to  remain  here  and  not  leave  the  post  until  it  is." 

"  You  can  prefer  charges  and  see  what  you'll  make  of  it,"  was  the 
vehement  reply.  "  Devil  a  bit  will  I  help  you  out  of  the  thing,  after 
this  night's  work." 

XIV. 

Tuesday,  and  the  day  of  the  long-projected  german  had  come ;  and 
if  ever  a  lot  of  garrison-people  were  wishing  themselves  well  out  of  a 
flurry  it  was  the  social  circle  at  Sibley.  Invitations  had  been  sent  to 
all  the  prominent  people  in  town  who  had  shown  any  interest  in  the 
garrison  since  the  regiment's  arrival ;  beautiful  favors  had  been  pro- 
cured ;  an  elaborate  supper  had  been  prepared, — the  ladies  contributing 
their  efforts  to  the  salads  and  other  solids,  the  officers  wisely  confining 
their  donations  to  the  wines.  It  was  rumored  that  new  and  original 
figures  were  to  be  danced,  and  much  had  been  said  about  this  feature 
in  town,  and  much  speculation  had  been  indulged  in ;  but  the  Beau- 
bien  residence  had  been  closed  until  the  previous  day,  Nina  was  away 
with  her  mother  and  beyond  reach  of  question,  and  Mr.  Jerrold  had 
not  shown  his  face  in  town  since  her  departure.  Nor  was  he  accessible 
when  visitors  inquired  at  the  fort.  They  had  never  known  such  mys- 
terious army  people  in  their  lives.  What  on  earth  could  induce  them 
to  be  so  close-mouthed  about  a  mere  german  ?  one  might  suppose  they 
had  something  worth  concealing ;  and  presently  it  became  noised  abroad 
that  there  was  genuine  cause  for  perplexity,  and  possibly  worse. 

To  begin  with,  every  one  at  Sibley  now  knew  something  of  the 
night  adventure  at  the  colonel's,  and,  as  no  one  could  give  the  true 
statement  of  the  case,  the  stories  in  circulation  were  gorgeous  embellish- 
ments of  the  actual  facts.  It  would  be  useless,  even  if  advisable,  to 
attempt  to  reproduce  these  wild  theories,  but  never  was  army  garrison 
so  tumultuouslv  stirred  by  the  whirlwind  of  rumor.  It  was  no  longer 


272  FROM  THE  BANKS. 

denied  for  an  instant  that  the  absence  of  the  colonel  and  his  household 
was  the  direct  result  of  that  night's  discoveries ;  and  when,  to  Mrs. 
Hoyt's  inexpressible  relief,  there  came  a  prettily-worded  note  from 
Alice  on  Monday  evening  informing  her  that  neither  the  colonel  nor 
her  mother  felt  well  enough  to  return  to  Sibley  for  the  german,  and  that 
she  herself  preferred  not  to  leave  her  mother  at  a  time  when  she  needed 
her  care,  Mrs.  Hoyt  and  her  intimates,  with  whom  she  instantly  con- 
ferred, decided  that  there  could  be  no  doubt  whatever  that  the  colonel 
knew  of  the  affair,  had  forbidden  their  return,  and  was  only  waiting 
for  further  evidence  to  decide  what  was  to  be  done  with  his  erring  step- 
daughter. Women  talked  with  bated  breath  of  the  latest  stories  in 
circulation,  of  Chester's  moody  silence  and  preoccupation,  of  Jerrold's 
ostracism,  and  of  Frank  Armitage's  sudden  return. 

On  Monday  morning  the  captain  had  quietly  appeared  in  uniform 
at  the  office,  and  it  was  known  that  he  had  relinquished  the  remainder 
of  his  leave  of  absence  and  resumed  command  of  his  company.  There 
were  men  in  the  garrison  who  well  knew  that  it  was  because  of  the 
mystery  overhanging  the  colonel's  household  that  Armitage  had  so 
suddenly  returned.  They  asked  no  questions  and  sought  no  explana- 
tion. All  men  marked,  however,  that  Jerrold  was  not  at  the  office 
on  Monday,  and  many  curiously  looked  at  the  morning  report  in  the 
adjutant's  office.  No,  he  was  not  in  arrest ;  neither  was  he  on  sick- 
report.  He  was  marked  present  for  duty,  and  yet  he  was  not  at  the 
customary  assembly  of  all  the  commissioned  officers  at  head-quarters. 
More  mystery,  and  most  exasperating,  too,  it  was  known  that  Armitage 
and  Jerrold  had  held  a  brief  talk  in  the  latter's  quarters  soon  after 
Sunday's  evening  parade,  and  that  the  former  had  been  reinforced  for  a 
time  by  Captain  Chester,  with  whom  he  was  afterwards  closeted.  Offi- 
cers who  heard  that  he  had  suddenly  returned  and  was  at  Chester's 
went  speedily  to  the  latter's  quarters, — at  least  two  or  three  did, — and 
were  met  by  a  servant  at  the  door,  who  said  that  the  gentlemen  had 
just  gone  out  the  back  way.  And,  sure  enough,  neither  Chester  nor 
Armitage  came  home  until  long  after  taps ;  and  then  the  colonel's 
cook  told  several  people  that  the  two  gentlemen  had  spent  over  an  hour 
up-stairs  in  the  colonel's  and  Miss  Alice's  room  and  "  was  fooliii' 
around  the  house  till  near  ten  o'clock." 

Another  thing  that  added  to  the  flame  of  speculation  and  curiosity 
was  this.  Two  of  the  ladies,  returning  from  a  moonlit  stroll  on  the  ter- 
race just  after  tattoo,  came  through  the  narrow  passage-way  on  the  west 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  27b 

side  of  the  colonel's  quarters,  and  there,  at  the  foot  of  the  little  flight 
of  steps  leading  up  to  the  parade,  they  came  suddenly  upon  Captain 
Chester,  who  was  evidently  only  moderately  pleased  to  see  them  and 
nervously  anxious  to  expedite  their  onward  movement.  With  the  per- 
versity of  both  sexes,  however,  they  stopped  to  chat  and  inquire  what 
he  was  doing  there,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  all  a  faint  light  gleamed  on 
the  opposite  wall  and  the  reflection  of  the  curtains  in  Alice  Renwick's 
window  was  distinctly  visible.  Then  a  sturdy  masculine  shadow  ap- 
peared, and  there  was  a  rustling  above,  and  then,  with  exasperating, 
mysterious,  and  epigrammatic  terseness,  a  deep  voice  propounded  the 
utterly  senseless  question, — 
"How's  that?" 

To  which,  in  great  embarrassment,  Chester  replied, — 
"  Hold  on  a  minute.  I'm  talking  with  some  interested  spectators." 
Whereat  the  shadow  of  the  big  man  shot  out  of  sight,  and  the 
ladies  found  that  it  was  useless  to  remain, — there  would  be  no  further 
developments  so  long  as  they  did ;  and  so  they  came  away,  with  many 
a  lingering  backward  look.  "  But  the  idea  of  asking  such  a  fool  ques- 
tion as  '  How's  that  ?'  Why  couldn't  the  man  say  what  he  meant  ?"  It 
was  gathered,  however,  that  Armitage  and  Chester  had  been  making 
some  experiments  that  bore  in  some  measure  on  the  mystery.  And  all 
this  time  Mr.  Jerrold  was  in  his  quarters,  only  a  stone's-throw  away. 
How  interested  he  must  have  been ! 

But,  while  the  garrison  was  relieved  at  knowing  that  Alice  Renwick 
would  not  be  on  hand  for  the  german  and  it  was  being  fondly  hoped 
she  might  never  return  to  the  post,  there  was  still  another  grievous 
embarrassment.  How  about  Mr.  Jerrold  ? 

He  had  been  asked  to  lead  when  the  german  was  first  projected, 
and  had  accepted.  That  was  fully  two  weeks  before;  and  now — no 
one  knew  just  what  ought  to  be  done.  It  was  known  that  Nina 
Beaubien  had  returned  on  the  previous  day  from  a  brief  visit  to  the 
upper  lakes,  and  that  she  had  a  costume  of  ravishing  beauty  in  which 
to  carry  desolation  to  the  hearts  of  the  garrison  belles  in  leading  that 
german  with  Mr.  Jerrold.  Old  Madame  Beaubien  had  been  reluctant, 
said  her  city  friends,  to  return  at  all.  She  heartily  disapproved  of  Mr. 
Jerrold,  and  was  bitterly  set  against  Nina's  growing  infatuation  for  him. 
But  Nina  was  headstrong  and  determined  :  moreover,  she  was  far  more 
than  a  match  for  her  mother's  vigilance,  and  it  was  known  at  Sibley 
that  two  or  three  times  the  girl  had  been  out  at  the  fort  with  the  Buttons 
M* 


274  FROM  THE  BANKS. 

and  other  friends  when  the  old  lady  believed  her  in  quarters  totally 
different.  Cub  Sutton  had  confided  to  Captain  Wilton  that  Madame 
Beaubien  was  in  total  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  there  was  to  be  a  party 
at  the  doctor's  the  night  he  had  driven  out  with  Nina  and  his  sister, 
and  that  Nina  had  "  pulled  the  wool  over  her  mother's  eyes"  and  made 
her  believe  she  was  going  to  spend  the  evening  with  friends  in  town, 
naming  a  family  with  whom  the  Beaubiens  were  intimate.  A  long 
drive  always  made  the  old  lady  sleepy,  and,  as  she  had  accompanied 
Nina  to  the  fort  that  afternoon,  she  went  early  to  bed,  having  secured  her 
wild  birdling,  as  she  supposed,  from  possibility  of  further  meetings  with 
Jerrold.  For  nearly  a  week,  said  Cub,  Madame  Beaubien  had  dogged 
Nina  so  that  she  could  not  get  a  moment  with  the  man  with  whom 
she  was  evidently  so  smitten,  and  the  girl  was  almost  at  her  wits'  end 
with  seeing  the  depth  of  his  flirtation  with  Alice  Ren  wick  and  the 
knowledge  that  on  the  morrow  her  mother  would  spirit  her  off  to  the 
cool  breezes  and  blue  waves  of  the  great  lake.  Cub  said  she  so  worked 
on  Fanny's  feelings  that  they  put  up  the  scheme  together  and  made 
him  bring  them  out.  Gad !  if  old  Maman  only  found  it  out  there'd 
be  no  more  germans  for  Nina.  She'd  ship  her  off  to  the  good  Sisters 
at  Creve-Coeur  and  slap  her  into  a  convent  and  leave  all  her  money  to 
the  Church. 

And  yet,  said  city  society,  old  Maman  idolized  her  beautiful  daugh- 
ter and  could  deny  her  no  luxury  or  indulgence.  She  dressed  her 
superbly,  though  with  a  somewhat  barbaric  taste  where  Nina's  own 
good  sense  and  Eastern  teaching  did  not  interfere.  What  she  feared 
was  that  the  girl  would  fall  in  love  with  some  adventurer,  or — what 
was  quite  as  bad — some  army  man  who  would  carry  her  darling  away 
to  Arizona  or  other  inaccessible  spot.  Her  plan  was  that  Nina  should 
marry  here — at  home — some  one  of  the  staid  young  merchant  princes 
rising  into  prominence  in  the  Western  metropolis,  and  from  the  very 
outset  Nina  had  shown  a  singular  infatuation  for  the  buttons  and  straps 
and  music  and  heaven-knows-what-all  out  at  the  fort.  She  gloried  in 
seeing  her  daughter  prominent  in  all  scenes  of  social  life.  She  rejoiced 
in  her  triumphs,  and  took  infinite  pains  with  all  preparations.  She 
would  have  set  her  foot  against  Nina's  simply  dancing  the  german  at 
the  fort  with  Jerrold  as  a  partner,  but  she  could  not  resist  it  that  the 
papers  should  announce  on  Sunday  morning  that  "  the  event  of  the 
season  at  Fort  Sibley  was  the  german  given  last  Tuesday  night  by 
the  ladies  of  the  garrison  and  led  by  the  lovely  Miss  Beaubien"  with 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  275 

Lieutenant  or  Captain  Anybody.  There  were  a  dozen  bright,  graceful, 
winning  women  among  the  dames  and  damsels  at  the  fort,  and  Alice 
Renwick  was  a  famous  beauty  by  this  time.  It  was  more  than  Maman 
Beaubien  could  withstand,  that  her  Nina  should  "  lead"  all  these,  and 
so  her  consent  was  won.  Back  they  came  from  Chequamegon,  and  the 
stately  home  on  Summit  Avenue  reopened  to  receive  them.  It  was 
Monday  noon  when  they  returned,  and  by  three  o'clock  Fanny  Button 
had  told  Nina  Beaubien  what  she  knew  of  the  wonderful  rumors 
that  were  floating  in  from  Sibley.  She  was  more  than  half  disposed 
to  be  in  love  with  Jerrold  herself.  She  expected  a  proper  amount 
of  womanly  horror,  incredulity,  and  indignation ;  but  she  was  totally 
unprepared  for  the  outburst  that  followed.  Nina  was  transformed  into 
a  tragedy  queen  on  the  instant,  and  poor,  simple-hearted,  foolish  Fanny 
Sutton  was  almost  scared  out  of  her  small  wits  by  the  fire  of  denuncia- 
tion and  fury  with  which  her  story  was  greeted.  She  came  home  with 
white,  frightened  face  and  hunted  up  Cub  and  told  him  that  she  had 
been  telling  Nina  some  of  the  queer  things  the  ladies  had  been  saying 
about  Mr.  Jerrold,  and  Nina  almost  tore  her  to  pieces,  and  could  he 
go  right  out  to  the  fort  to  see  Mr.  Jerrold?  Nina  wanted  to  send  a 
note  at  once ;  and  if  he  couldn't  go  she  had  made  her  promise  that  she 
would  get  somebody  to  go  instantly  and  to  come  back  and  let  her  know 
before  four  o'clock.  Cub  was  always  glad  of  an  excuse  to  go  out  to 
the  fort,  but  a  coldness  had  sprung  up  between  him  and  Jerrold.  He 
nad  heard  the  ugly  rumors  in  that  mysterious  way  in  which  all  such 
things  are  heard,  and,  while  his  shallow  pate  could  not  quite  conceive 
of  such  a  monstrous  scandal  and  he  did  not  believe  half  he  heard,  he 
sagely  felt  that  in  the  presence  of  so  much  smoke  there  was  surely 
some  fire,  and  avoided  the  man  from  whom  he  had  been  inseparable. 
Of  course  he  had  not  spoken  to  him  on  the  subject,  and,  singularly 
enough,  this  was  the  case  with  all  the  officers  at  the  post  except  Armi- 
tage  and  the  commander.  It  was  understood  that  the  matter  was  in 
Chester's  hands,  to  do  with  as  was  deemed  best.  It  was  believed  that 
his  resignation  had  been  tendered  ;  and  all  these  forty-eight  hours  since 
the  story  might  be  said  to  be  fairly  before  the  public,  Jerrold  had  been 
left  much  to  himself,  and  was  presumably  in  the  depths  of  dismay. 

One  or  two  men,  urged  by  their  wives,  who  thought  it  was  really 
time  something  were  done  to  let  him  understand  he  ought  not  to  lead 
the  german,  had  gone  to  see  him  and  been  refused  admission.  Asked 
from  within  what  they  wanted,  the  reply  was  somewhat  difficult  to 


276  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

frame,  and  in  both  cases  resolved  itself  into  "  Oh,  about  the  german ;" 
to  which  Jerrold's  voice  was  heard  to  say,  "  The  german's  all  right. 
I'll  lead  if  I'm  well  enough  and  am  not  bothered  to  death  meantime ; 
but  I've  got  some  private  matters  to  attend  to,  and  am  not  seeing  any- 
body to-day."  And  with  this  answer  they  were  fain  to  be  content. 
It  had  been  settled,  however,  that  the  officers  were  to  tell  Captain 
Chester  at  ten  o'clock  that  in  their  opinion  Mr.  Jerrold  ought  not  to  be 
permitted  to  attend  so  long  as  this  mysterious  charge  hung  over  him  , 
and  Mr.  Rollins  had  been  notified  that  he  must  be  ready  to  lead. 

Poor  Rollins !  He  was  in  sore  perplexity.  He  wanted  nothing 
better  than  to  dance  with  Nina  Beaubien.  He  wondered  if  she  would 
lead  with  him,  or  would  even  come  at  all  when  she  learned  that  Jerrold 
would  be  unable  to  attend.  "  Sickness"  was  to  be  the  ostensible  cause, 
and  in  the  youth  and  innocence  of  his  heart  Rollins  never  supposed 
that  Nina  would  hear  of  all  the  other  assignable  reasons.  He  meant 
to  ride  in  and  call  upon  her  Monday  evening ;  but,  as  ill  luck  would 
have  it,  old  SI  oat,  who  was  officer  of  the  day,  stepped  on  a  round 
pebble  as  he  was  going  down  the  long  flight  to  the  railway-station,  and 
sprained  his  ankle.  Just  at  five  o'clock  Rollins  got  orders  to  relieve 
him,  and  was  returning  from  the  guard-house,  when  who  should  come 
driving  in  but  Cub  Sutton,  and  Cub  reined  up  and  asked  where  he 
would  be  apt  to  find  Mr.  Jerrold. 

"  He  isn't  well,  and  has  been  denying  himself  to  all  callers  to-day, ' 
said  Rollins,  shortly. 

"  Well,  I've  got  to  see  him,  or  at  least  get  a  note  to  him,"  said 
Cub.  "  It's  from  Miss  Beaubien,  and  requires  an  answer." 

"  You  know  the  way  to  his  quarters,  I  presume,"  said  Rollins, 
coldly:  "you  have  been  there  frequently.  I  will  have  a  man  hold 
your  horse,  or  you  can  tie  him  there  at  the  rail,  just  as  you  please." 

"Thanks.  I'll  go  over,  I  believe."  And  go  he  did,  and  poor 
Rollins  was  unable  to  resist  the  temptation  of  watching  whether  the 
magic  name  of  Nina  would  open  the  door.  It  did  not ;  but  he  saw 
Cub  hand  in  the  little  note  through  the  shutters,  and  ere  long  there 
came  another  from  within.  This  Cub  stowed  in  his  waistcoat- pocket 
and  drove  off  with,  and  Rollins  walked  jealously  homeward.  But 
that  evening  he  went  through  a  worse  experience,  and  it  was  the  last 
blow  to  his  budding  passion  for  sparkling-eyed  Nina. 

It  was  nearly  tattoo,  and  a  dark  night,  when  Chester  suddenly 
came  in : 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  277 

44  Rollins,  you  remember  my  telling  you  I  was  sure  some  of  the  men 
iad  been  getting  liquor  in  from  the  shore  down  below  the  station  and 
running  it'  that  way  ?  I  believe  we  can  nab  the  smuggler  this  even- 
ing. There's  a  boat  down  there  now.  The  corporal  has  just  told 
me." 

Smuggling  liquor  was  one  of  Chester's  horrors.  He  surrounded  the 
post  with  a  cordon  of  sentries  who  had  no  higher  duty,  apparently,  than 
that  of  preventing  the  entrance  of  alcohol  in  any  form.  He  had  run  a 
"  red-cross"  crusade  against  the  post-trader's  store  in  the  matter  of  light 
wines  and  small  beer,  claiming  that  only  adulterated  stuff  was  sold  to 
the  men,  and  forbidding  the  sale  of  anything  stronger  than  "  pop"  over 
the  trader's  counter.  Then,  when  it  became  apparent  that  liquor  was 
being  brought  on  the  reservation,  he  made  vigorous  efforts  to  break  up 
the  practice.  Colonel  Maynard  rather  poohpoohed  the  whole  business. 
It  was  his  theory  that  a  man  who  was  determined  to  have  a  drink  might 
better  be  allowed  to  take  an  honest  one,  coram  publico,  than  a  smug- 
gled and  deleterious  article ;  but  he  succumbed  to  the  rule  that  only 
"  light  wines  and  beer"  should  be  sold  at  the  store,  and  was  lenient  to 
the  poor  devils  who  overloaded  and  deranged  their  stomachs  in  conse- 
quence. But  Chester  no  sooner  found  himself  in  command  than  he 
launched  into  the  crusade  with  redoubled  energy,  and  spent  hours  of 
the  day  and  night  trying  to  capture  invaders  of  the  reservation  with  a 
bottle  in  their  pockets.  The  bridge  was  guarded,  so  was  the  crossing 
of  the  Cloudwater  to  the  south,  and  so  were  the  two  roads  entering  from 
the  north  and  west ;  and  yet  there  was  liquor  coming  in,  and,  as  though 
''*  to  give  Chester  a  benefit,"  some  of  the  men  in  barracks  had  a  royal 
old  spree  on  Saturday  night,  and  the  captain  was  sorer-headed  than  any 
of  the  participants  in  consequence.  In  some  way  he  heard  that  a  row- 
boat  came  up  at  night  and  lauded  supplies  of  contraband  down  by  the 
river-side  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  the  sentry  at  the  railway-station, 
and  it  was  thither  he  hurriedly  led  Rollins  this  Monday  evening. 

They  turned  across  the  railway  on  reaching  the  bottom  of  the  long 
stairs,  and  scrambled  down  the  rocky  embankment  on  the  other  side, 
Rollins  following  in  reluctant  silence  and  holding  his  sword  so  that  it 
would  not  rattle,  but  he  had  no  faith  in  the  theory  of  smugglers.  He 
felt  in  some  vague  and  unsatisfactory  way  a  sense  of  discomfort  and 
anxiety  over  his  captain's  late  proceedings,  and  this  stealthy  descent 
seemed  fraught  with  ill  omen. 

Once  down  in  the  flats,  their  footsteps  made  no  noise  in  the  yielding 

•A. 


278  FROM  THE  EANKS. 

sand,  and  all  was  silence  save  for  the  plash  of  the  waters  along  the  shores. 
Far  down  the  river  were  the  reflections  of  one  or  two  twinkling  lights, 
and  close  under  the  bank  in  the  slack-water  a  few  stars  were  peeping 
at  their  own  images,  but  no  boat  was  there,  and  the  captain  led  still  far- 
ther to  a  little  copse  of  willow,  and  there,  in  the  shadows,  sure  enough, 
was  a  row-boat,  with  a  little  lantern  dimly  burning,  half  hidden  in  the 
stern. 

Not  only  that,  but  as  they  halted  at  the  edge  of  the  willows  the 
captain  put  forth  a  warning  hand  and  cautioned  silence.  No  need. 
Rolling's  straining  eyes  were  already  fixed  on  two  figures  that  were 
standing  in  the  shadows  not  ten  feet  away, — one  that  of  a  tall,  slender 
man,  the  other  a  young  girl.  It  was  a  moment  before  Rollins  could 
recognize  either;  but  in  that  moment  the  girl  had  turned  suddenly, 
had  thrown  her  arms  about  the  neck  of  the  tall  young  man,  and,  with 
her  head  pillowed  on  his  breast,  was  gazing  up  in  his  face. 

"  Kiss  me  once  more,  Howard.  Then  I  must  go,"  they  heard  her 
whisper. 

Rollins  seized  his  captain's  sleeve,  and  strove,  sick  at  heart,  to  pull 
him  back ;  but  Chester  stoutly  stood  his  ground.  In  the  few  seconds 
more  that  they  remained  they  saw  his  arms  more  closely  enfold  her. 
They  saw  her  turn  at  the  brink,  and,  in  an  utter  abandonment  of  rap- 
turous, passionate  love,  throw  her  arms  again  about  his  neck  and  stand 
on  tiptoe  to  reach  his  face  with  her  warm  lips.  They  could  not  fail 
to  hear  the  caressing  tone  of  her  every  word,  or  to  mark  his  receptive 
but  gloomy  silence.  They  could  not  mistake  the  voice, — the  form, 
shadowy  though  it  was.  The  girl  was  Nina  Beaubien,  and  the  man, 
beyond  question,  Howard  Jerrold.  They  saw  him  hand  her  into  the 
light  skiff  and  hurriedly  kiss  her  good-night.  Once  again,  as  though 
she  could  not  leave  him,  her  arms  were  thrown  about  his  neck  and  she 
clung  to  him  with  ail  her  strength ;  then  the  little  boat  swung  slowly 
out  into  the  stream,  the  sculls  were  shipped,  and  with  practised  hand 
Nina  Beaubien  pulled  forth  into  the  swirling  waters  of  the  river,  and 
the  faint  light,  like  slowly-setting  star,  floated  downward  with  the 
sweeping  tide  and  finally  disappeared  beyond  the  point. 

Then  Jerrold  turned  to  leave,  and  Chester  stepped  forth  and  con- 
frontet  I  him : 

"  Mr.  Jerrold,  did  I  not  instruct  you  to  confine  yourself  to  youi 
quarters  until  satisfactory  explanation  was  made  of  the  absences  with 
which  you  are  charged?" 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  279 

Jerrold  started  at  the  abrupt  and  unlooked-for  greeting,  but  his 
answer  was  prompt : 

"  Not  at  all,  sir.  You  gave  me  to  understand  that  I  was  to  remain 
here — not  to  leave  the  post — until  you  had  decided  on  certain  points  j 
and,  though  I  do  not  admit  the  justice  of  your  course,  and  though  you 
have  put  me  to  grave  inconvenience,  I  obeyed  the  order.  I  needed  to 
go  to  town  to-day  on  urgent  business,  but,  between  you  and  Captain 
Armitage,  am  in  no  condition  to  go.  For  all  this,  sir,  there  will  come 
proper  retribution  when  my  colonel  returns.  And  now,  sir,  you  are 
spying  upon  me, — spying,  I  say, — and  it  only  confirms  what  I  said  of 
you  before." 

"  Silence,  Mr.  Jerrold  !     This  is  insubordination." 

"  I  don't  care  a  damn  what  it  is,  sir !  There  is  nothing  contemptuous 
enough  for  me  to  say  of  you  or  your  conduct  to  me " 

"  Not  another  word,  Mr.  Jerrold  !  Go  to  your  quarters  in  arrest. 
— Mr.  Rollins,  you  are  witness  to  this  language." 

But  Rollins  was  not.  Turning  from  the  spot  in  blankness  of  heart 
before  a  word  was  uttered  between  them,  he  followed  the  waning  light 
with  eyes  full  of  yearning  and  trouble ;  he  trudged  his  way  down  along 
the  sandy  shore  until  he  came  to  the  silent  waters  of  the  slough  and 
could  go  no  farther ;  and  then  he  sat  him  down  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands.  It  was  pretty  hard  to  bear. 

XV. 

Tuesday  still,  and  all  manner  of  things  had  happened  and  were  still 
to  happen  in  the  hurrying  hours  that  followed  Sunday  night.  The 
garrison  woke  at  Tuesday's  reveille  in  much  perturbation  of  spirit, 
as  has  been  said,  but  by  eight  o'clock  and  breakfast-time  one  cause  of 
perplexity  was  at  an  end.  Relief  had  come  with  Monday  afternoon 
and  Alice  Renwick's  letter  saying  she  would  not  attend  the  german, 
and  now  still  greater  relief  in  the  news  that  sped  from  mouth  to  mouth : 
Lieutenant  Jerrold  was  in  close  arrest.  Armitage  and  Chester  had  been 
again  in  consultation  Monday  night,  said  the  gossips,  and  something 
new  had  been  discovered, — no  one  knew  just  what, — and  the  toils  had 
settled  upon  Jerrold's  handsome  head,  and  now  he  was  to  be  tried.  As 
usual  in  such  cases,  the  news  came  in  through  the  kitchen,  and  most 
officers  heard  it  at  the  breakfast-table  from  the  lips  of  their  better 
halves,  who  could  hardly  find  words  to  express  their  seutiments  as  to 
the  inability  of  their  lords  to  explain  the  new  phase  of  the  situation. 


280  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

When  the  first  sergeant  of  Company  B  came  around  to  Captain  Arrni- 
tage  with  the  sick-book,  soon  after  six  in  the  morning,  the  captain 
briefly  directed  him  to  transfer  Lieutenant  Jerrold  on  the  morning 
report  from  present  for  duty  to  "in  arrest,"  and  no  sooner  was  it 
known  at  the  quarters  of  Company  B  than  it  began  to  work  back  to 
Officers'  Row  through  the  medium  of  the  servants  and  strikers. 

It  was  the  sole  topic  of  talk  for  a  full  hour.  Many  ladies  who  had 
intended  going  to  town  by  the  early  train  almost  perilled  their  chances 
of  catching  the  same  in  their  eagerness  to  hear  further  details. 

But  the  shriek  of  the  whistle  far  up  the  valley  broke  up  the  group 
that  was  so  busily  chatting  and  speculating  over  in  the  quadrangle,  and, 
with  shy  yet  curious  eyes,  the  party  of  at  least  a  dozen — matrons  and 
maids,  wives  or  sisters  of  the  officers — scurried  past  the  darkened  win- 
dows of  Mr.  Jerrold's  quarters,  and  through  the  mysterious  passage 
west  of  the  colonel's  silent  house,  and  down  the  long  stairs,  just  in 
time  to  catch  the  train  that  whirled  them  away  city-ward  almost  as  soon 
as  it  had  disgorged  the  morning's  mail.  Chatting  and  laughing,  and  full 
of  blithe  anticipation  of  the  glories  of  the  coming  german,  in  prepara- 
tion for  which  most  of  their  number  had  found  it  necessary  to  run  in 
for  just  an  hour's  shopping,  they  went  jubilantly  on  their  way.  Shop- 
ping done,  they  would  all  meet,  take  luncheon  together  at  the  "  Woman's 
Exchange,"  return  to  the  post  by  the  afternoon  train,  and  have  plenty 
of  time  for  a  little  nap  before  dressing  for  the  german.  Perhaps  the 
most  interesting  question  now  up  for  discussion  was,  who  would  lead 
with  Mr.  Rollins  ?  The  train  went  puffing  into  the  crowded  d6p6t : 
the  ladies  hastened  forth,  and  in  a  moment  were  on  the  street ;  cabs  and 
carriages  were  passed  in  disdain ;  a  brisk  walk  of  a  block  carried  them 
to  the  main  thoroughfare  and  into  the  heart  of  the  shopping  district ;  a 
rush  of  hoofs  and  wheels  and  pedestrians  there  encountered  them,  and 
the  roar  assailed  their  sensitive  and  unaccustomed  ears,  yet  high  above 
it  all  pierced  and  pealed  the  shrill  voices  of  the  newsboys  darting  here 
and  there  with  their  eagerly-bought  journals.  But  women  bent  on 
germans  and  shopping  have  time  and  ears  for  no  such  news  as  that 
which  demands  the  publication  of  extras.  Some  of  them  never  hear 
or  heed  the  cry,  "  Indian  Massacree  !"  "  Here  y'are !  All  about  the 
killin'  of  Major  Thornton  an'  his  sojers  !"  "  Extry  !— extry  !"  It 
is  not  until  they  reach  the  broad  portals  of  the  great  Stewart  of  the 
West  that  one  of  their  number,  half  incredulously,  buys  a  copy  and 
reads  aloud  :  "  Major  Thornton, th  Infantry,  Captain  Langham  and 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  281 

Lieutenant  Bliss, th  Cavalry,  and  thirty  men,  are  killed.  Captains 

Wright  and  Lane  and  Lieutenants  Willard  and  Brooks, th  Cavalry, 

and  some  forty  more  men,  are  seriously  wounded.  The  rest  of  the 
command  is  corralled  by  an  overwhelming  force  of  Indians,  and  their 
only  hope  is  to  hold  out  until  help  can  reach  them.  All  troops  along 
the  line  of  the  Union  Pacific  are  already  under  orders." 

"Oh,  isn't  it  dreadful?" 

"  Yes ;  but  aren't  you  glad  it  wasn't  Ours  ?  Oh,  look !  there's  Nina 
Beaubien  over  there  in  her  carriage.  Do  let's  find  out  if  she's  going  to 
lead  with  Rollins!" 

Vce  victis !  Far  out  in  the  glorious  Park  country  in  the  heart  of 
the  Centennial  State  a  little  band  of  blue-coats,  sent  to  succor  a  perilled 
agent,  is  making  desperate  stand  against  fearful  odds.  Less  than  two 
hundred  men  has  the  wisdom  of  the  Department  sent  forth  through  the 
wilderness  to  find  and,  if  need  be,  fight  its  way  through  five  times  its 
weight  in  well-armed  foes.  The  officers  and  men  have  no  special 
quarrel  with  those  Indians,  nor  the  Indians  with  them.  Only  two 
winters  before,  when  those  same  Indians  were  sick  and  starving,  and 
their  lying  go-betweens,  the  Bureau-employees,  would  give  them  neither 
food  nor  justice,  a  small  band  made  their  way  to  the  railway  and  were 
fed  on  soldier  food  and  their  wrongs  righted  by  soldier  justice.  But 
another  snarl  has  come  now,  and  this  time  the  Bureau-people  are  in  a 
pickle,  and  the  army— ever  between  two  fires  at  least,  and  thankful 
when  it  isn't  six — is  ordered  to  send  a  little  force  and  go  out  there 
and  help  the  agent  maintain  his  authority.  The  very  night  before  the 
column  reaches  the  borders  of  the  reservation  the  leading  chiefs  come 
in  camp  to  interview  the  officers,  shake  hands,  beg  tobacco,  and  try  on 
their  clothes,  then  go  back  to  their  braves  and  laugh  as  they  tell  there 
are  only  a  handful,  and  plan  the  morrow's  ambuscade  and  massacre. 
VCB  victis  1  There  are  women  and  children  among  the  garrisons  along 
the  Union  Pacific  whose  hearts  have  little  room  for  thoughts  of  germans 
in  the  horror  of  this  morning's  tidings.  But  Sibley  is  miles  and  miles 
away,  and,  as  Mrs.  Wheeler  says,  aren't  you  glad  it  wasn't  Ours  ? 

Out  at  the  fort  there  is  a  different  scene.  The  morning  journals  and 
the  clicking  telegraph  send  a  thrill  throughout  the  whole  command. 
The  train  has  barely  whistled  out  of  sight  when  the  ringing  notes  of 
officers'  call  resound  through  the  quadrangle  and  out  over  the  broader 
drill-ground  beyond.  Wondering,  but  prompt,  the  staid  captains  and 
eager  subalterns  come  hurrying  to  head-quarters,  and  the  band,  that 

24* 


282  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

had  come  forth  and  taken  its  station  on  the  parade,  all  ready  for 
guard-mount,  goes  quickly  back,  while  the  men  gather  in  big  squads 
along  the  shaded  row  of  their  quarters  and  watch  the  rapid  assembly 
at  the  office.  And  there  old  Chester,  with  kindling  eyes,  reads  to  the 
silent  company  the  brief  official  order.  Ay,  though  it  be  miles  and 
miles  away,  fast  as  steam  and  wheel  can  take  it,  the  good  old  regiment 
in  all  its  sturdy  strength  goes  forth  to  join  the  rescue  of  the  imprisoned 
comrades  far  in  the  Colorado  Rockies.  "  Have  your  entire  command  in 
readiness  for  immediate  field-service  in  the  Department  of  the  Platte. 
Special  train  will  be  there  to  take  you  by  noon  at  latest."  And  though 
many  a  man  has  lost  friend  and  comrade  in  the  tragedy  that  calls  them 
forth,  and  though  many  a  brow  clouds  for  the  moment  with  the  bitter 
news  of  such  useless  sacrifice,  every  eye  brightens,  every  muscle  seems 
to  brace,  every  nerve  and  pulse  to  throb  and  thrill  with  the  glorious 
excitement  of  quick  assembly  and  coming  action.  Ay,  we  are  miles 
and  miles  away ;  we  leave  the  dear  old  post,  with  homes  and  firesides, 
wives,  children,  and  sweethearts,  all  to  the  care  of  the  few  whom  sick- 
ness or  old  wounds  or  advancing  years  render  unfit  for  hard,  sharp 
marching ;  and,  thank  God !  we'll  be  there  to  take  a  hand  and  help 
those  gallant  fellows  out  of  their  "  corral"  or  to  have  one  good  blow  at 
the  cowardly  hounds  who  lured  and  lied  to  them. 

How  the  "  assembly"  rings  on  the  morning  air  !  How  quick  they 
spring  to  ranks,  those  eager  bearded  faces  and  trim  blue-clad  forms ! 
How  buoyant  and  brisk  even  the  elders  seem  as  the  captains  speed  over 
to  their  company  quarters  and  the  quick,  stirring  orders  are  given  ! 
"  Field  kits ;  all  the  cooked  rations  you  have  on  hand ;  overcoat, 
blanket,  extra  socks  and  underclothes ;  every  cartridge  you've  got ; 
haversack  and  canteen,  and  nothing  else.  Now  get  ready, — lively !" 
How  irrepressible  is  the  cheer  that  goes  up !  How  we  pity  the  swells 
of  the  light  battery  who  have  to  stay  !  How  wistful  those  fellows 
look,  and  how  eagerly  they  throng  about  the  barracks,  yearning  to  go, 
and,  since  that  is  denied,  praying  to  be  of  use  in  some  way !  Small 
wonder  is  it  that  all  the  bustle  and  excitement  penetrates  the  portals  of 
Mr.  Jerrold's  darkened  quarters,  and  the  shutters  are  thrown  open  and 
his  bandaged  head  comes  forth. 

"  What  is  it,  Harris  ?"  he  demands  of  a  light-batteryman  who  is 
hurrying  past. 

"Orders  for  Colorado,  sir.     The  regiment  go^s  by  special  train. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  283 

Major  Thornton's  command's  been  massacred,  and  there's  a  big  fight 
ahead." 

"  My  God  !  Here ! — stop  one  moment.  Run  over  to  Company 
B  and  see  if  you  can  find  my  servant,  or  Merrick,  or  somebody. 
If  not,  you  come  back  quick.  I  want  to  send  a  note  to  Captain 
Armitage." 

"  I  can  take  it,  sir.  We're  not  going.  The  band  and  the  battery 
have  to  stay." 

And  Jerrold,  with  trembling  hand  and  feverish  haste,  seats  himself 
at  the  same  desk  whence  on  that  fatal  morning  he  sent  the  note  that 
wrought  such  disaster ;  and  as  he  rises  and  hands  his  missive  forth, 
throwing  wide  open  the  shutters  as  he  does  so,  his  bedroom  doors  fly 
open,  and  a  whirling  gust  of  the  morning  wind  sweeps  through  from 
rear  to  front,  and  half  a  score  of  bills  and  billets,  letters  and  scraps  of 
paper,  go  ballooning  out  upon  the  parade. 

"  By  heaven  !"  he  mutters,  "  that's  how  it  happened,  is  it  ?  Look 
at  them  go  !"  for  going  they  were,  in  spiral  eddies  or  fluttering  skips, 
up  the  grassy  "  quad,"  and  over  among  the  rose-bushes  of  Alice  Ren- 
wick's  garden.  Over  on  the  other  side  of  the  narrow,  old-fashioned 
frontier  fort  the  men  were  bustling  about,  and  their  exultant,  eager 
voices  rang  out  on  the  morning  air.  All  was  life  and  animation,  and 
even  in  Jerrold's  selfish  soul  there  rose  responsive  echo  to  the  soldierly 
spirit  that  seemed  to  pervade  the  whole  command.  It  was  their  first 
summons  to  active  field-duty  with  prospective  battle  since  he  had  joined, 
and,  with  all  his  shortcomings  as  a  "  duty"  officer  in  garrison  and  his 
many  frailties  of  character,  Jerrold  was  not  the  man  to  lurk  in  the  rear 
when  there  was  danger  ahead.  It  dawned  on  him  with  sudden  and 
crushing  force  that  now  it  lay  in  the  power  of  his  enemies  to  do  him 
vital  injury, — that  he  could  be  held  here  at  the  post  like  a  suspected 
felon,  a  mark  for  every  finger,  a  target  for  every  tongue,  while  every 
other  officer  of  his  regiment  was  hurrying  with  his  men  to  take  his 
knightly  share  in  the  coming  onset.  It  was  intolerable,  shameful. 
He  paced  the  floor  of  his  little  parlor  in  nervous  misery,  ever  and  anon 
gazing  from  the  window  for  sight  of  his  captain.  It  was  to  him  he 
had  written,  urging  that  he  be  permitted  a  few  moments'  talk.  "  This 
is  no  time  for  a  personal  misunderstanding,"  he  wrote.  "  I  must  see 
you  at  once.  I  can  clear  away  the  doubts,  can  explain  my  action ;  but, 
for  heaven's  sake,  intercede  for  me  with  Captain  Chester  that  I  may 
go  with  the  command." 


284  FROM  THE  BANKS. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  Armitage  was  with  Chester  at  the  office 
when  the  letter  was  handed  in.  He  opened  it,  gave  a  whistle  of  sur- 
prise, and  simply  held  it  forth  to  the  temporary  commander. 

"Read  that,"  he  said.  . 

Chester  frowned,  but  took  the  note  and  looked  it  curiously  over. 

"  I  have  no  patience  with  the  man  now,"  he  said.  "  Of  course 
after  what  I  saw  last  night  I  begin  to  understand  the  nature  of  his 
defence ;  but  we  don't  want  any  such  man  in  the  regiment,  after  this. 
What's  the  use  of  taking  him  with  us  ?" 

"  That  isn't  the  point,"  said  Armitage.  "  Now  or  never,  possibly, 
is  the  time  to  clear  up  this  mystery.  Of  course  Maynard  will  be  up 
to  join  us  by  the  first  train ;  and  what  won't  it  be  worth  to  him  to  have 
positive  proof  that  all  his  fears  were  unfounded  ?" 

"  Even  if  it  wasn't  Jerrold,  there  is  still  the  fact  that  I  saw  a  man 
clambering  out  of  her  window.  How  is  that  to  be  cleared  up  ?"  said 
Chester,  gloomily. 

"  That  may  come  later,  and  won't  be  such  a  bugbear  as  you  think. 
If  you  were  not  worried  into  a  morbid  condition  over  all  this  trouble, 
you  would  not  look  so  seriously  upon  a  thing  which  I  regard  as  a  piece 
of  mere  night  prowling,  with  a  possible  spice  of  romance." 

"  What  romance,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Never  mind  that  now :  I'm  playing  detective  for  the  time 
being.  Let  me  see  Jerrold  for  you  and  find  out  what  he  has  to  offer. 
Then  you  can  decide.  Are  you  willing  ?  All  right !  But  remember 
this  while  I  think  of  it.  You  admit  that  the  light  you  saw  on  the 
wall  Sunday  night  was  exactly  like  that  which  you  saw  the  night  of 
your  adventure,  and  that  the  shadows  were  thrown  in  the  same  way. 
You  thought  that  night  that  the  light  was  turned  up  and  afterwards 
turned  out  in  her  room,  and  that  it  was  her  figure  you  saw  at  the 
window.  Didn't  you?" 

"Yes.     What  then?" 

"  Well,  I  believe  her  statement  that  she  saw  and  heard  nothing 
until  reveille.  I  believe  it  was  Mrs.  Maynard  who  did  the  whole  thing, 
without  Miss  Renwick's  knowing  anything  about  it." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  accomplished  the  feat  with  the  aid  of  the  little  night- 
lamp  that  I  found  by  the  colonel's  bedside.  It  is  my  theory  that  Mrs. 
Maynard  was  restless  after  the  colonel  finally  fell  asleep,  that  she  heard 
your  tumble,  and  took  her  little  lamp,  crossed  over  into  Miss  Renwick's 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  286 

room,  opened  the  door  without  creaking,  as  I  can  do  to  your  satisfaction, 
found  her  sleeping  quietly,  but  the  room  a  trifle  close  and  warm,  set 
her  night-lamp  down  on  the  table,  as  I  did,  threw  her  shadow  on  the 
wall,  as  I  did,  and  opened  the  shade,  as  you  thought  her  daughter  did. 
Then  she  withdrew,  and  left  those  doors  open, — both  hers  and  her 
daughter's, — and  the  light,  instead  of  being  turned  down,  as  you 
thought,  was  simply  carried  back  into  her  own  room." 

"That  is  all  possible.  But  how  about  the  man  in  her  room? 
Nothing  was  stolen,  though  money  and  jewelry  were  lying  around 
loose.  If  theft  was  not  the  object,  what  was  ?" 

"  Theft  certainly  was  not,  and  I'm  not  prepared  to  say  what  was, 
but  I  have  reason  to  believe  it  wasn't  Miss  Renwick." 

"Anything  to  prove  it?" 

"  Yes ;  and,  though  time  is  precious  and  I  cannot  show  you,  you 
may  take  my  word  for  it.  We  must  be  off  at  noon,  and  both  of  us 
have  much  to  do,  but  there  may  be  no  other  chance  to  talk,  and  before 
you  leave  this  post  I  want  you  to  realize  her  utter  innocence." 

"  I  want  to,  Armitage." 

"  I  know  you  do :  so  look  here.  We  assume  that  the  same  man 
paid  the  night  visit  both  here  and  at  Sablon,  and  that  he  wanted  to  see 
the  same  person, — if  he  did  not  come  to  steal :  do  we  not  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  We  know  that  at  Sablon  it  was  Mrs.  Maynard  he  sought  and 
called.  The  colonel  says  so." 

"  Yes." 

"  Presumably,  then,  it  was  she — not  her  daughter — he  had  some 
reasons  for  wanting  to  see  here  at  Sibley.  What  is  more,  if  he  wanted 
to  see  Miss  Renwick  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  his  going  right  into 
her  window  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"  Well,  I  believe  I  can  prove  he  didn't ;  on  the  contrary,  that  he 
went  around  by  the  roof  of  the  porch  to  the  colonel's  room  and  tried 
there,  but  found  it  risky  on  account  of  the  blinds,  and  that  finally  he 
entered  the  hall  window, — what  might  be  called  neutral  ground.  The 
painters  had  been  at  work  there,  as  you  said,  two  days  before,  and  the 
paint  on  the  slats  was  not  quite  dry.  The  blinds  and  sills  were  the 
only  things  they  had  touched  up  on  that  front,  it  seems,  and  nothing' 
on  the  sides.  Now,  on  the  fresh  paint  of  the  colonel's  slats  are  the 


286  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

new  imprints  of  masculine  thumb  and  fingers,  and  on  the  sill  of  the 
kail  window  is  a  footprint  that  I  know  to  be  other  than  Jerrold's." 

"Why?" 

"Because  he  doesn't  own  such  a  thing  as  this  track  was  made 
with,  and  I  don't  know  a  man  in  this  command  who  does.  It  was  the 
handiwork  of  the  Tonto  Apaches,  and  came  from  the  other  side  of  the 
continent." 

"  You  mean  it  was ?" 

"  Exactly.     An  Indian  moccasin." 

Meantime,  Mr.  Jerrold  had  been  making  hurried  preparations,  as 
he  had  fully  determined  that  at  any  cost  he  would  go  with  the  regi- 
ment. He  had  been  burning  a  number  of  letters,  when  Captain 
Armitage  knocked  and  hurriedly  entered.  Jerrold  pushed  forward  a 
chair  and  plunged  at  once  into  the  matter  at  issue : 

"  There  is  no  time  to  waste,  captain.  I  have  sent  to  you  to  ask 
what  I  can  do  to  be  released  from  arrest  and  permitted  to  go  with  the 
command." 

"  Answer  the  questions  I  put  to  you  the  other  night,  and  certify  to 
your  answers ;  and  of  course  you'll  have  to  apologize  to  Captain  Chester 
for  your  last  night's  language." 

"That  of  course;  though  you  will  admit  it  looked  like  spying. 
Now  let  me  ask  you,  did  he  tell  you  who  the  lady  was  ?" 

"No.     I  told  kirn." 

"  How  did  you  know  ?" 

"  By  intuition,  and  my  knowledge  of  previous  circumstances." 

"  We  have  no  time  to  discuss  it.  I  make  no  attempt  to  conceal  it 
now ;  but  I  ask  that,  on  your  honor,  neither  you  nor  he  reveal  it." 

"  And  continue  to  let  the  garrison  believe  that  you  were  in  Miss 
Renwick's  room  that  ghastly  night  ?"  asked  Armitage,  dryly. 

Jerrold  flushed  :  "  I  have  denied  that,  and  I  would  have  proved  my 
aMbi  could  I  have  done  so  without  betraying  a  woman's  secret.  Must 
I  tell?" 

"  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  Mr.  Jerrold,"  said  Armitage,  with  cold 
and  relentless  meaning,  "you  not  only  must  tell — you  must  prove — 
both  that  night's  doings  and  Saturday  night's, — both  that  and  how  you 
obtained  that  photograph." 

"  My  God  !  In  one  case  it  is  a  woman's  name ;  in  the  other  I  have 
promised  on  honor  not  to  reveal  it." 

"That  ends  it,  then.     You  remain  here  in  close  arrest,  and  the 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  287 

charges  against  you  will  be  pushed  to  the  bitter  end.    I  will  write  them 
this  very  hour." 

XVI. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  morning,  shortly  after  a  smiling  interview  with 
the  ladies  of  Fort  Sibley,  in  which,  with  infinite  spirit  and  the  most 
perfect  self-control,  Miss  Beaubien  had  informed  them  that  she  had 
promised  to  lead  with  Mr.  Jerrold,  and,  since  he  was  in  duress,  she 
would  lead  with  no  one,  and  sent  them  off  wondering  and  greatly  ex- 
cited, there  came  running  up  to  the  carriage  a  telegraph  messenger  boy, 
who  handed  her  a  despatch. 

"  I  was  going  up  to  the  avenue,  mum,"  he  explained,  "  but  I  seen 
you  here." 

Nina's  face  paled  as  she  tore  it  open  and  read  the  curt  lines : 
"  Come  to  me,  here.  Your  help  needed  instantly." 
She  sprang  from  the  carriage.  "  Tell  mother  I  have  gone  over  to 
see  some  Fort  friends, — not  to  wait,"  she  called  to  the  coachman,  well 
knowing  he  would  understand  that  she  meant  the  ladies  with  whom  she 
had  been  so  recently  talking.  Like  a  frightened  deer  she  sped  around 
the  corner,  hailed  the  driver  of  a  cab,  lounging  with  his  fellows  along 
the  walk,  ordered  him  to  drive  with  all  speed  to  Summit  Avenue,  and 
with  beating  heart  decided  on  her  plan.  Her  glorious  eyes  were  flash- 
ing :  the  native  courage  and  fierce  determination  of  her  race  were 
working  in  her  woman's  heart.  She  well  knew  that  imminent  danger 
threatened  him.  She  had  dared  everything  for  love  of  his  mere  pres- 
ence, his  sweet  caress.  What  would  she  not  dare  to  save  him,  if  save 
she  could  ?  He  had  not  been  true  to  her.  She  knew,  and  knew  well, 
that,  whether  sought  or  not,  Alice  Renwick  had  been  winning  him  from 
her,  that  he  was  wavering,  that  he  had  been  cold  and  negligent ;  but  with 
all  her  soul  and  strength  she  loved  him,  and  believed  him  grand  and 
brave  and  fine  as  he  was  beautiful.  Now — now  was  her  opportunity. 
He  needed  her.  His  commission,  his  honor,  depended  on  her.  He 
had  intimated  as  much  the  night  before, — had  told  her  of  the  accusa- 
tions and  suspicions  that  attached  to  him, — but  made  no  mention  of 
the  photograph.  He  had  said  that  though  nothing  could  drag  from 
him  a  word  that  would  compromise  her,  she  might  be  called  upon  to 
stand  'twixt  him  and  ruin ;  and  now  perhaps  the  hour  had  come.  She 
could  free,  exonerate,  glorify  him,  and  in  doing  so  claim  him  for  her 
own.  Who,  after  this,  could  stand  'twixt  her  and  him  ?  He  loved  her, 


288  FROM  THE  EANKS. 

though  he  had  been  cold ;  and  she ?  Had  he  bidden  her  bow  her 

dusky  head  to  earth  and  kiss  the  print  of  his  heel,  she  would  have 
obeyed  could  she  but  feel  sure  that  her  reward  would  be  a  simple  touch 
of  his  hand,  an  assurance  that  no  other  woman  could  find  a  moment's 
place  in  his  love.  Verily,  he  had  been  doing  desperate  wooing  in  the 
long  winter,  for  the  very  depths  of  her  nature  were  all  athrob  with 
love  for  him.  And  now  he  could  no  longer  plead  that  poverty  with- 
held his  offer  of  his  hand.  She  would  soon  be  mistress  of  her  own 
little  fortune,  and,  at  her  mother's  death,  of  an  independence.  Go  to 
him  she  would,  and  on  wings  of  the  wind,  and  go  she  did.  The  cab 
released  her  at  the  gate  to  her  home,  and  went  back  with  a  double  fare 
that  set  the  driver  to  thinking.  She  sped  through  the  house,  and  out 
the  rear  doors,  much  to  the  amaze  of  cook  and  others  who  were  in  con- 
sultation in  the  kitchen.  She  flew  down  a  winding  flight  of  stairs  to 
the  level  below,  and  her  fairy  feet  went  tripping  over  the  pavement  of 
a  plebeian  street.  A  quick  turn,  and  she  was  at  a  little  second-rate 
staole,  whose  proprietor  knew  her  and  started  from  his  chair. 

"What's  wrong  to-day,  Miss  Nina?" 

"  I  want  the  roan  mare  and  light  buggy  again,— quick  as  you  can. 
Your  own  price  at  the  old  terms,  Mr.  Graves, — silence." 

He  nodded,  called  to  a  subordinate,  and  in  five  minutes  handed  her 
into  the  frail  vehicle.  An  impatient  chirrup  and  flap  of  the  reins,  and 
the  roan  shot  forth  into  the  dusty  road,  leaving  old  Graves  shaking  his 
head  at  the  door. 

"  I've  known  her  ever  since  she  was  weaned,"  he  muttered,  "  and 
she's  a  wild  bird,  if  ever  there  was  one,  but  she's  never  been  the  like  o' 
this  till  last  month." 

And  the  roan  mare  was  covered  with  foam  and  sweat  when  Nina 
Beaubien  drove  into  the  bustling  fort,  barely  an  hour  after  her  receipt 
of  Jerrold's  telegram.  A  few  officers  were  gathered  in  front  of  head 
quarters,  and  there  were  curious  looks  from  face  to  face  as  she  was 
recognized.  Mr.  Rollins  was  on  the  walk,  giving  some  instructions  to 
a  sergeant  of  his  company,  and  never  saw  her  until  the  buggy  reined 
up  close  behind  him  and,  turning  suddenly,  he  met  her  face  to  face  as 
she  sprang  lightly  to  the  ground.  The  young_  fellow  reddened  to  his 
eyes,  and  would  have  recoiled,  but  she  was  mistress  of  the  situation. 
She  well  knew  she  had  but  to  command  and  he  would  obey,  or,  at  the 
most,  if  she  could  no  longer  command  she  had  only  to  implore,  and  he 
would  be  powerless  to  withstand  her  entreaty. 


FROM  THE  BANKS.  289 

"I  am  glad  you  are  here,  Mr.  Rollins.  You  can  help  me. — Ser- 
geant, will  you  kindly  hitch  my  horse  at  that  post? — Now,"  she  added, 
in  low,  hurried  tone,  "  come  with  me  to  Mr.  Jerrold's." 

Rollins  was  too  stupefied  to  answer.  Silently  he  placed  himself  by 
her  side,  and  together  they  passed  the  group  at  the  office.  Miss  Beau- 
bien  nodded  with  something  of  her  old  archness  and  coquetry  to  the 
cap-raising  party,  but  never  hesitated.  Together  they  passed  along  the 
narrow  board  walk,  followed  by  curious  eyes,  and  as  they  reached  the 
angle  and  stepped  beneath  the  shelter  of  the  piazza  in  front  of  the  long, 
low,  green-blinded  Bachelors'  Row,  there  was  sudden  sensation  in  the 
group  Mr.  Jerrold  appeared  at  the  door  of  his  quarters;  Rollins 
halted  some  fifty  feet  away,  raised  his  cap,  and  left  her ;  and,  all  alone, 
with  the  eyes  of  Fort  Sibley  upon  her,  Nina  Beaubien  stepped  bravely 
forward  to  meet  her  lover. 

They  saw  him  greet  her  at  the  door.  Some  of  them  turned  away, 
unwilling  to  look,  and  yet  unwilling  to  go  and  not  understand  this  new 
pliase  of  the  mystery.  Rollins,  looking  neither  to  right  nor  left,  re- 
passed  them  and  walked  off  with  a  set,  savage  look  on  his  young 
face,  and  then,  as  one  or  two  still  gazed,  fascinated  by  this  strange  and 
daring  proceeding,  others,  too,  turned  back  and,  half  ashamed  of  them- 
selves for  such  a  yielding  to  curiosity,  glanced  furtively  over  at  Jerrold's 
door. 

There  they  stood, — he,  restrained  by  his  arrest,  unable  to  come 
forth ;  she,  restrained  more  by  his  barring  form  than  by  any  considera- 
tion of  maidenly  reserve,  for,  had  he  bidden,  she  would  have  gone 
within.  She  had  fully  made  up  her  mind  that  wherever  he  was,  even 
were  it  behind  the  sentinels  and  bars  of  the  guard-house,  she  would 
demand  that  she  be  taken  to  his  side.  He  had  handed  out  a  chair,  but 
she  would  not  sit.  They  saw  her  looking  up  into  his  face  as  he  talked, 
and  noted  the  eager  gesticulation,  so  characteristic  of  his  Creole  blood, 
that  seemed  to  accompany  his  rapid  words.  They  saw  her  bending 
towards  him,  looking  eagerly  up  in  his  eyes,  and  occasionally  casting 
indignant  glances  over  towards  the  group  at  the  office,  as  though  she 
would  annihilate  with  her  wrath  the  persecutors  of  her  hero.  Then 
they  saw  her  stretch  forth  both  her  hands  with  a  quick  impulsive 
movement,  and  grasp  his  one  instant,  looking  so  faithfully,  steadfastly, 
loyally,  into  his  clouded  and  anxious  face.  Then  she  turned,  and  with 
quick,  eager  steps  came  tripping  towards  them.  They  stood  irresolute. 
Every  man  felt  that  it  was  somebody's  duty  to  step  forward,  meet  her, 
N  25 


290  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

and  be  her  escort  though  the  party,  but  no  one  advanced.  There  was, 
if  anything,  a  tendency  to  sidle  towards  the  office  door,  as  though  to 
leave  the  sidewalk  unimpeded.  But  she  never  sought  to  pass  them  by. 
With  flashing  eyes  and  crimson  cheeks,  she  bore  straight  upon  them, 
and,  with  indignant  emphasis  upon  every  word,  accosted  them  : 

"  Captain  Wilton,  Major  Sloat,  I  wish  to  see  Captain  Chester  at 
once.  Is  he  in  the  office  ?" 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Beaubien.  Shall  I  call  him  ?  or  will  you  walk 
in  ?"  And  both  men  were  at  her  side  in  a  moment. 

"  Thanks.  I  will  go  right  in, — if  you  will  kindly  show  me  to 
him." 

Another  moment,  and  Armitage  and  Chester,  deep  in  the  midst 
of  their  duties  and  surrounded  by  clerks  and  orderlies  and  assailed  by 
half  a  dozen  questions  in  one  and  the  same  instant,  looked  up  aston- 
ished as  Wilton  stepped  in  and  announced  Miss  Beaubien  desiring  to 
see  Captain  Chester  on  immediate  business.  There  was  no  time  for 
conference.  There  she  stood  in  the  door-way,  and  all  tongues  were 
hushed  on  the  instant.  Chester  rose  and  stepped  forward  with  anxious 
courtesy.  She  did  not  choose  to  see  the  extended  hand. 

"  It  is  you,  alone,  I  wish  to  see,  captain.     Is  it  impossible  here  ?" 

"  I  fear  it  is,  Miss  Beaubien ;  but  we  can  walk  out  in  the  open  air. 
I  feel  that  I  know  what  it  is  you  wish  to  say  to  me/'  he  added,  in  a  low 
tone,  took  his  cap  from  the  peg  on  which  it  hung,  and  led  the  way. 
Again  she  passed  through  the  curious  but  respectful  group,  and  Jer- 
rold,  watching  furtively  from  his  window,  saw  them  come  forth. 

The  captain  turned  to  her  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  earshot  : 

"I  have  no  daughter  of  my  own,  my  dear  young  lady,  but  if  I 
had  I  could  not  more  thoroughly  feel  for  you  than  I  do.  How  can  J 
help  you?" 

The  reply  was  unexpectedly  spirited.  He  had  thought  to  encour- 
age and  sustain  her,  be  sympathetic  and  paternal,  but,  as  he  afterwards 
ruefully  admitted,  he  "  never  did  seem  to  get  the  hang  of  a  woman's 
temperament."  Apparently  sympathy  was  not  the  thing  she  needed. 

"It  is  late  in  the  day  to  ask  such  a  question,  Captain  Chester. 
You  have  done  great  wrong  and  injustice.  The  question  is  now, 
will  you  undo  it  ?" 

He  was  too  surprised  to  speak  for  a  moment.  When  his  tongu<s 
was  unloosed  he  said, — 

"  J  shall  be  glad  to  be  convinced  I  was  wrong." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  291 

"  I  know  little  of  army  justice  or  army  laws,  Captain  Chester,  but 
when  a  girl  is  compelled  to  take  this  step  to  rescue  a  friend  there  is 
something  brutal  about  them,— or  the  men  who  enforce  them.  Mr. 
Jerrold  tells  me  that  he  is  arrested.  I  knew  that  last  night,  but  not 
until  this  morning  did  he  consent  to  let  me  know  that  he  would  be 
court-martialled  unless  he  could  prove  where  he  was  the  night  you  were 
officer  of  the  day  two  weeks  ago,  and  last  Saturday  night.  He  is  too 
noble  and  good  to  defend  himself  when  by  doing  so  he  might  harm  me. 
But  I  am  here  to  free  him  from  the  cruel  suspicion  you  have  formed." 
She  had  quickened  her  step,  and  in  her  impulsiveness  and  agitation 
they  were  almost  at  the  end  of  the  walk.  He  hesitated,  as  though  re- 
luctant to  go  along  under  the  piazza,  but  she  was  imperious,  and  he 
yielded.  "  No,  come !"  she  said.  "  I  mean  that  you  shall  hear  the 
whole  truth,  and  that  at  once.  I  do  not  expect  you  to  understand  or 
condone  my  conduct,  but  you  must  acquit  him.  We  are  engaged ;  and 
— I  love  him.  He  has  enemies  here,  as  I  see  all  too  plainly,  and  they 
have  prejudiced  mother  against  him,  and  she  has  forbidden  my  seeing 
him.  I  came  out  to  the  fort  without  her  knowledge  one  day,  and  it 
angered  her.  From  that  time  she  would  not  let  me  see  him  alone. 
She  watched  every  movement,  and  came  with  me  wherever  I  drove. 
She  gave  orders  that  I  should  never  have  any  of  our  horses  to  drive  or 
ride  alone, — I,  whom  father  had  indulged  to  the  utmost  and  who  had 
ridden  and  driven  at  will  from  my  babyhood.  She  came  out  to  the 
fort  with  me  that  evening  for  parade,  and  never  even  agreed  to  let  me 
go  out  to  see  some  neighbors  until  she  learned  he  was  to  escort  Miss 
Kenwick.  She  had  ordered  me  to  be  ready  to  go  with  her  to  Che- 
quamagon  the  next  day,  and  I  would  not  go  until  I  had  seen  him. 
There  had  been  a  misunderstanding.  I  got  the  Suttons  to  drive  me 
out  while  mother  supposed  me  at  the  Laurents',  and  Mr.  Jerrold  prom- 
ised to  meet  me  east  of  the  bridge  and  drive  in  town  with  us,  and  I  was 
to  send  him  back  in  Graves's  buggy.  He  had  been  refused  permission 
to  leave  the  post,  he  said,  and  could  not  cross  the  bridge,  where  the  sen- 
tries would  be  sure  to  recognize  him,  but,  as  it  was  our  last  chance  of 
meeting,  he  risked  the  discovery  of  his  absence,  never  dreaming  of  such 
a  thing  as  his  private  rooms  being  inspected.  He  had  a  little  skiff 
down  in  the  willows  that  he  had  used  before,  and  by  leaving  the  party 
at  midnight  he  could  get  home,  change  his  dress,  run  down  the  bank 
and  row  down-stream  to  the  Point,  there  leave  his  skiff  and  climb  up 
to  the  road.  He  met  us  there  at  one  o'clock,  and  the  Suttons  would 


292  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

never  betray  either  of  us,  though  they  did  not  know  we  were  engaged. 
We  sat  in  their  parlor  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  we  got  to  town,  and 
then  'twas  time  to  go,  and  there  was  only  a  little  ten  minutes'  walk 
down  to  the  stable.  I  had  seen  him  such  a  very  short  time,  and  I  had 
so  much  to  tell  him."  (Chester  could  have  burst  into  rapturous  ap- 
plause had  she  been  an  actress.  Her  cheeks  were  aflame,  her  eyes  full 
of  fire  and  spirit,  her  bosom  heaving,  her  little  foot  tapping  the  ground, 
as  she  stood  there  leaning  on  the  colonel's  fence  and  looking  straight 
up  in  the  perturbed  veteran's  face.  She  was  magnificent,  he  said  to 
himself;  and,  in  her  bravery,  self-sacrifice,  and  indignation,  she  was.) 
"  It  was  then  after  two,  and  I  could  just  as  well  go  with  him, — some- 
body had  to  bring  the  buggy  back, — and  Graves  himself  hitched  in  his 
roan  mare  for  me,  and  I  drove  out,  picked  up  Mr.  Jerrold  at  the  cor- 
ner, and  we  came  out  here  again  through  the  darkness  together.  Even 
when  we  got  to  the  Point  I  did  not  let  him  go  at  once.  It  was  over  an 
hour's  drive.  It  was  fully  half-past  three  before  we  parted.  He  sprang 
down  the  path  to  reach  the  river-side ;  and  before  he  was  fairly  in  his 
boat  and  pulling  up  against  the  stream,  I  heard,  far  over  here  some- 
where, those  two  faint  shots.  That  was  the  shooting  he  spoke  of  in 
his  letter  to  me, — not  to  her ;  and  what  business  Colonel  Maynard  had 
to  read  and  exhibit  to  his  officers  a  letter  never  intended  for  him  I  can- 
not understand.  Mr.  Jerrold  says  it  was  not  what  he  wanted  it  to  be 
at  all,  as  he  wrote  hastily,  so  he  wrote  another,  and  sent  that  to  me  by 
Merrick  that  morning  after  his  absence  was  discovered.  It  probably 
blew  out  of  the  window,  as  these  other  things  did  this  morning.  See 
for  yourself,  captain."  And  she  pointed  to  the  two  or  three  bills  and 
scraps  that  had  evidently  only  recently  fluttered  in  among  the  now 
neglected  roses.  "Then  when  he  was  aroused  at  reveille  and  you 
threatened  him  with  punishment  and  held  over  his  head  the  startling 
accusation  that  you  knew  of  our  meeting  and  our  secret,  he  was  natu- 
rally infinitely  distressed,  and  could  only  write  to  warn  me,  and  he 
managed  to  get  in  and  say  good-by  to  me  at  the  station.  As  for  me,  I 
was  back  home  by  five  o'clock,  let  myself  noiselessly  up  to  my  room, 
and  no  one  knew  it  but  the  Suttons  and  old  Graves,  neither  of  whom 
would  betray  me.  I  had  no  fear  of  the  long  dark  road :  I  had  ridden 
and  driven  as  a  child  all  over  these  bluffs  and  prairies  before  there  was 
any  town  worth  mentioning,  and  in  days  when  my  father  and  I  found 
only  friends — not  enemies — here  at  Sibley." 

"  Miss  Beaubien,  let  me  protest  againt  your  accusation.     It  is  no! 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  293 

foi  me  to  reprove  your  grave  imprudence  or  recklessness ;  nor  have  I 
the  right  to  disapprove  your  choice  of  Mr.  Jerrold.  Let  me  say  at 
once  that  you  have  none  but  friends  here ;  and  if  it  ever  should  be 
known  to  what  lengths  you  went  to  save  him,  it  will  only  make  him 
more  envied  and  you  more  genuinely  admired.  I  question  your 
wisdom,  but,  upon  my  soul,  I  admire  your  bravery  and  spirit.  You 
have  cleared  him  of  a  terrible  charge." 

A  most  disdainful  and  impatient  shrug  of  her  shapely  shoulders 
was  Miss  Beauuien's  only  answer  to  that  allusion.  The  possibility  of 
Mr.  Jerrold's  being  suspected  of  another  entanglement  was  something 
she  would  not  tolerate  : 

"  I  know  nothing  of  other  people's  affairs.  I  simply  speak  of  my 
own.  Let  us  end  this  as  quickly  as  possible,  captain.  Now  about 
Saturday  night.  Mother  had  consented  to  our  coming  back  for  the 
german, — she  enjoys  seeing  me  lead,  it  seems, — and  she  decided  to  pay 
a  short  visit  to  relations  at  St.  Croix,  staying  there  Saturday  night  and 
over  Sunday.  This  would  give  us  a  chance  to  meet  again,  as  he  could 
spend  the  evening  in  St.  Croix  and  return  by  late  train,  and  I  wrote 
and  asked  him.  He  came ;  we  had  a  long  talk  in  the  summer-house 
in  the  garden,  for  mother  never  dreamed  of  his  being  there,  and  un- 
luckily he  just  missed  the  night  train  and  did  not  get  back  until  in- 
spection. It  was  impossible  for  him  to  have  been  at  Sablon ;  and  he 
can  furnish  other  proof,  but  would  do  nothing  until  he  had  seen  me." 

"Miss  Beaubien,  you  have  cleared  him.  I  only  wish  that  you 
could  clear — every  one." 

"  I  am  in  no  wise  concerned  in  that  other  matter  to  which  you  have 
alluded  ;  neither  is  Mr.  Jerrold.  May  I  say  to  him  at  once  that  thia 
ends  his  persecution  ?" 

The  captain  smiled :  "  You  certainly  deserve  to  be  the  bearer  of 
good  tidings.  I  wish  he  may  appreciate  it." 

Another  moment,  and  she  had  left  him  and  sped  back  to  Jerrold'a 
door-way.  He  was  there  to  meet  her,  and  Chester  looked  with  grim 
and  uncertain  emotion  at  the  radiance  in  her  face.  He  had  to  get 
back  to  the  office  and  to  pass  them  :  so,  as  civilly  as  he  could,  consider- 
ing the  weight  of  wrath  and  contempt  he  felt  for  the  man,  he  stopped 
and  spoke : 

"Your  fair  advocate  has  been  all-powerful,  Mr.  Jerrold.  I  con- 
gratulate you ;  and  your  arrest  is  at  an  end.  Captain  Armitage  will 


294  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

require  no  duty  of  you  until  we  are  aboard ;  but  we've  only  half  an 
hour.  The  train  is  coming  sharp  at  noon." 

"  Train  !  What  train  !  Where  are  you  going?"  she  asked,  a  wild 
anxiety  in  her  eyes,  a  sudden  pallor  on  her  face. 

"  We  are  ordered  post-haste  to  Colorado,  Nina,  to  rescue  what  is 
left  of  Thornton's  men.  But  for  you  I  should  have  been  left  behind." 

"But  for  me!— left  behind!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  Howard,  Howard! 
have  I  only — only  won  you  to  send  you  into  danger  ?  Oh,  my  darling ! 
Oh,  God  !  Don't>—  don't  go  !  They  will  kill  you  !  It  will  kill  me ! 
Oh,  what  have  I  done  ?  what  have  I  done  ?" 

"  Nina,  hush  !  My  honor  is  with  the  regiment.  I  must  go,  child. 
We'll  be  back  in  a  few  weeks.  Indeed,  I  fear  'twill  all  be  over  before 
we  get  there.  Nina,  don't  look  so  !  Don't  act  so  !  Think  where  you 
are!" 

But  she  had  borne  too  much,  and  the  blow  came  all  too  soon, — too 
heavy.  She  was  wellnigh  senseless  when  the  Beaubien  carriage  came 
whirling  into  the  fort  and  old  Maman  rushed  forth  in  voluble  and 
rabid  charge  upon  her  daughter.  All  too  late !  "it  was  useless  now. 
Her  darling's  heart  was  weaned  away,  and  her  love  lavished  on  that 
tall,  objectionable  young  soldier  so  soon  to  go  forth  to  battle.  Re- 
proaches, tears,  wrath,  were  all  in  order,  but  were  abandoned  at 
sight  of  poor  Nina's  agony  of  grief.  Noon  came,  and  the  train,  and 
with  buoyant  tread  the  gallant  command  marched  down  the  winding 
road  and  filed  aboard  the  cars,  and  Howard  Jerrold,  shame-stricken, 
humbled  at  the  contemplation  of  his  own  unworthiness,  slowly  un- 
clasped her  arms  from  about  his  neck,  laid  one  long  kiss  upon  her 
white  and  quivering  lips,  took  one  brief  look  in  the  great,  dark,  haunt- 
ing, despairing  eyes,  and  carried  her  wail  of  anguish  ringing  in  his 
ears  as  he  sprang  aboard  and  was  whirled  away. 

But  there  were  women  who  deemed  themselves  worse  off  than  Nina 
Beaubien, — the  wives  and  daughters  and  sweethearts  whom  she  met 
that  morn  in  town ;  for  when  they  got  back  to  Sibley  the  regiment  wad 
miles  away.  For  them  there  was  not  even  a  kiss  from  the  lips  of 
those  they  loved.  Time  and  train  waited  for  no  woman.  There  were 
comrades  battling  for  life  in  the  Colorado  Rockies,  and  nid  could  n*c 
come  too  soon. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  29(1 

XVII. 

Under  the  cloudless  heavens,  under  the  starlit  skies,  blessing  the 
grateful  dew  that  cools  the  upland  air  and  moistens  the  bunch-grass 
that  has  been  bleaching  all  day  in  the  fierce  rays  of  the  summer  sun,  a 
little  column  of  infantry  is  swinging  steadily  southward.  Long  and 
toilsome  has  been  the  march  ;  hot,  dusty,  and  parching  the  day.  Halts 
have  been  few  and  far  between,  and  every  man,  from  the  colonel  down, 
is  coated  with  a  gray  mask  of  powdered  alkali,  the  contribution  of  a 
two  hours'  tramp  through  Deadman's  Cafion  just  before  the  sun  went 
down.  Now,  however,  they  are  climbing  the  range.  The  morrow  will 
bring  them  to  the  broad  and  beautiful  valley  of  the  Spirit  Wolf,  and 
there  they  must  have  news.  Officers  and  men  are  footsore  and  weary, 
but  no  one  begs  for  rest.  Colonel  Maynard,  riding  ahead  on  a  sorry 
hack  he  picked  up  at  the  station  two  days'  long  march  behind  them,  is 
eager  to  reach  the  springs  at  Forest  Glade  before  ordering  bivouac  for 
the  night.  A  week  agone  no  one  who  saw  him  at  Sablon  would  have 
thought  the  colonel  fit  for  a  march  like  this ;  but  he  seems  rejuvenate. 
His  head  is  high,  his  eye  as  bright,  his  bearing  as  full  of  spirit,  as 
man's  could  possibly  be  at  sixty,  and  the  whole  regiment  cheered  him 
when  he  caught  the  column  at  Omaha.  A  talk  with  Chester  and 
Armitage  seemed  to  have  made  a  new  man  of  him,  and  to-night  he  is 
full  of  an  energy  that  inspires  the  entire  command.  Though  they  were 
farther  away  than  many  other  troops  ordered  to  the  scene,  the  fact  that 
their  station  was  on  the  railway  and  that  they  could  be  sent  by  special 
trains  to  Omaha  and  thence  to  the  West  enabled  them  to  begin  their 
rescue-march  ahead  of  all  the  other  foot-troops  and  behind  only  the 
powerful  command  of  cavalry  that  was  whirled  to  the  scene  the 
moment  the  authorities  woke  up  to  the  fact  that  it  should  have  been 
sent  in  the  first  place.  Old  Maynard  would  give  his  very  ears  to  get 
to  Thornton's  corral  ahead  of  them,  but  the  cavalry  has  thirty-six 
hours'  start  and  four  legs  to  two.  Every  moment  he  looks  ahead  ex- 
pectant of  tidings  from  the  front  that  shall  tell  him  the th  were  there 

and  the  remnant  rescued.  Even  then,  he  knows,  he  and  his  long  Spring- 
fields  will  be  needed.  The  cavalry  can  fight  their  way  in  to  the  succor 
of  the  besieged,  but  once  there  will  be  themselves  surrounded  and  too 
•  few  in  numbers  to  begin  aggressive  movements.  He  and  his  will  in- 
deed be  welcome  reinforcements ;  and  so  they  trudge  ahead. 

The  moon  is  up  and  it  is  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  high  up  on  tho 


296  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

rolling  divide  the  springs  are  reached,  and,  barely  "waiting  to  quench 
their  thirst  in  the  cooling  waters,  the  wearied  men  roll  themselves  in 
their  blankets  under  the  giant  trees,  and,  guarded  by  a  few  outlying 
pickets,  are  soon  asleep.  Most  of  the  officers  have  sprawled  around  a 
little  fire  and  are  burning  their  boot-leather  thereat.  The  colonel,  his 
adjutant,  and  the  doctor  are  curled  up  under  a  tent-fly  that  serves  by 
day  as  a  wrap  for  the  rations  and  cooking-kit  they  carry  on  pack-mule. 
Two  company  commanders, — the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  the  ten,  as 
Major  Sloat  dubbed  them, — the  senior  and  junior  in  rank,  Chester  and 
Armitage  by  name,  have  rolled  themselves  in  their  blankets  under  an- 
other tent-fly  and  are  chatting  in  low  tones  before  dropping  off  to  sleep. 
They  have  been  inseparable  on  the  journey  thus  far,  and  the  colonel 
has  had  two  or  three  long  talks  with  them ;  but  who  knows  what  the 
morrow  may  bring  forth  ?  There  is  still  much  to  settle. 

One  officer,  he  of  the  guard,  is  still  afoot,  and  trudging  about  among 
the  trees,  looking  after  his  sentries.  Another  officer,  also  alone,  is 
sitting  in  silence  smoking  a  pipe :  it  is  Mr.  Jerrold. 

Cleared  though  he  is  of  the  charges  originally  brought  against  him 
in  the  minds  of  his  colonel  and  Captain  Chester,  he  has  lost  caste  with 
his  fellows  and  with  them.  Only  two  or  three  men  have  been  made 
aware  of  the  statement  which  acquitted  him,  but  every  one  knows  in- 
stinctively that  he  was  saved  by  Nina  Beaubien,  and  that  in  accepting 
his  release  at  her  hands  he  had  put  her  to  a  cruel  expense.  Every  man 
among  his  brother  officers  knows  in  some  way  that  he  has  been  ac- 
quitted of  having  compromised  Alice  Renwick's  fair  fame  only  by  an 
alibi  that  correspondingly  harmed  another.  The  fact  now  generally 
known,  that  they  were  betrothed,  and  that  the  engagement  was  openly 
announced,  made  no  difference.  Without  being  able  to  analyze  his 
conduct,  the  regiment  was  satisfied  that  it  had  been  selfish  and  con- 
temptible ;  and  that  was  enough  to  warrant  giving  him  the  cold  shoulder. 
He  was  quick  to  see  and  take  the  hint,  and,  in  bitter  distress  of  mind, 
to  withdraw  himself  from  their  companionship.  He  had  hoped  and 
expected  that  his  eagerness  to  go  with  them  on  the  wild  and  sudden 
campaign  would  reinstate  him  in  their  good  graces,  but  it  failed  utterly. 
"  Any  man  would  seek  that" was  the  verdict  of  the  informal  council 
hcild  by  the  officers,  "  He  would  have  been  a  poltroon  if  he  hadn't 
sought  to  go ;  but,  while  he  isn't  a  poltroon,  he  has  done  a  contemptible 
thing."  And  so  it  stood.  Rollins  had  cut  him  dead,  refused  his  hand, 
and  denied  him  a  chance  to  explain.  "  Tell  him  he  can't  explain,"  was 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  297 

the  savage  reply  he  sent  by  the  adjutant,  who  consented  to  carry  Jer- 
rold's  message  in  order  that  he  might  have  fair  play.  "  He  knows, 
without  explanation,  the  wrong  he  has  done  to  more  than  one.  I  won't 
have  anything  to  do  with  him." 

Others  avoided  him,  and  only  coldly  spoke  to  him  when  speech  was 
necessary.  Chester  treated  him  with  marked  aversion ;  the  colonel 
would  not  look  at  him;  only  Armitage — his  captain— -had  a  decent 
word  for  him  at  any  time,  and  even  he  was  stern  and  cold.  The  most 
envied  and  careless  of  the  entire  command,  the  Adonis,  the  beau,  the 
crack  shot,  the  graceful  leader  in  all  garrison  gayeties,  the  beautiful 
dancer,  rider,  tennis-player,  the  adored  of  so  many  sentimental  women 
at  Sibley,  poor  Jerrold  had  found  his  level,  and  his  proud  and  sensitive 
though  selfish  heart  was  breaking. 

Sitting  alone  under  the  trees,  he  had  taken  a  sheet  of  paper  from 
his  p  cket-case  and  was  writing  by  the  light  of  the  rising  moon.  One 
letter  was  short  and  easily  written,  for  with  a  few  words  he  had  brought 
it  to  a  close,  then  folded  and  in  a  bold  and  vigorous  hand  addressed  it. 
The  other  was  far  longer ;  and  over  this  one,  thinking  deeply,  erasing 
some  words  and  pondering  much  over  others,  he  spent  a  long  hour.  It 
was  nearly  midnight,  and  he  was  chilled  to  the  heart,  when  he  stiffly 
rose  and  took  his  way  among  the  blanketed  groups  to  the  camp-fire 
around  which  so  many  of  his  wearied  comrades  were  sleeping  the  sleep 
of  the  tired  soldier.  Here  he  tore  to  fragments  and  scattered  in  the 
embers  some  notes  and  letters  that  were  in  his  pockets.  They  blazed 
up  brightly,  and  by  the  glare  he  stood  one  moment  studying  young 
Rolling's  smooth  and  placid  features;  then  he  looked  around  on  the 
unconscious  circle  of  bronzed  and  bearded  faces.  There  were  many 
types  of  soldier  there, — men  who  had  led  brigades  through  the  great 
war  and  gone  back  to  the  humble  bars  of  the  line-officer  at  its  close ; 
men  who  had  led  fierce  charges  against  the  swarming  Indians  in  the 
rough  old  days  of  the  first  prairie  railways ;  men  who  had  won  dis- 
tinction and  honorable  mention  in  hard  and  trying  frontier  service ; 
men  who  had  their  faults  and  foibles  and  weaknesses  like  other  men, 
and  were  aggressive  or  compliant,  strong-willed  or  yielding,  overbearing 
or  meek,  as  are  their  brethren  in  other  walks  of  life ;  men  who  were 
simple  of  heart,  single  in  purpose  and  ambition,  diverse  in  character- 
istics, but  unanimous  in  one  trait, — no  meanness  could  live  among 
them ;  and  Jerrold's  heart  sank  within  him,  colder,  lower,  stonier  than 
before,  as  he  looked  from  face  to  face  and  cast  up  mentally  the  sum  of 
N* 


298  FROM  THE  HANKS. 

each  man's  character.  His  hospitality  had  been  boundless,  his  bounty 
lavish ;  one  and  all  they  had  eaten  of  his  loaf  and  drunk  of  his  cup ; 
but  was  there  among  them  one  who  could  say  of  him,  "  He  is  genei^us 
and  I  stand  his  friend"  ?  Was  there  one  of  them,  one  of  theirs,  for 
whom  he  had  ever  denied  himself  a  pleasure,  great  or  small?  He 
looked  at  poor  old  Gray,  with  his  wrinkled,  anxious  face,  and  thought 
of  his  distress  of  mind.  Only  a  few  thousands — not  three  years'  pay — 
had  the  veteran  scraped  and  saved  and  stored  away  for  his  little  girl, 
whose  heart  was  aching  with  its  first  cruel  sorrow, — his  work,  his  un- 
doing, his  cursed,  selfish  greed  for  adulation,  his  reckless  love  of  love. 
Thf.  morrow's  battle,  if  it  came,  might  leave  her  orphaned  and  alone, 
and,  poor  as  it  was,  a  father's  pitying  sympathy  could  not  be  her  help 
with  the  coming  year.  Would  Gray  mourn  him  if  the  fortune  of  war 
made  him  the  victim  ?  Would  any  one  of  those  averted  faces  look  with 
pity  and  regret  upon  his  stiffening  form  ?  Would  there  be  any  one  on 
earth  to  whom  his  death  would  be  a  sorrow,  but  Nina  ?  Would  it  even 
be  a  blow  to  her  ?  She  loved  him  wildly,  he  knew  that ;  but  would  she 
did  she  but  dream  the  truth  ?  He  knew  her  nature  well.  He  knew 
how  quickly  such  burning  love  could  turn  to  fiercest  hate  when  con- 
vinced that  the  object  was  utterly  untrue.  He  had  said  nothing  to  her 
of  the  photograph,  nothing  at  all  of  Alice  except  to  protest  time  and 
again  that  his  attentions  to  her  were  solely  to  win  the  good  will  of  the 
colonel's  family  and  of  the  colonel  himself,  so  that  he  might  be  proof 
against  the  machinations  of  his  foes.  And  yet  had  he  not,  that  very 
night  on  which  he  crossed  the  stream  and  let  her  peril  her  name  and 
honor  for  one  stolen  interview — had  he  not  gone  to  her  exultant  wel- 
come with  a  traitorous  knowledge  gnawing  at  his  heart  ?  That  very 
night,  before  they  parted  at  the  colonel's  door  had  he  not  lied  to  Alice 
Renwick  ? — had  he  not  denied  the  story  of  his  devotion  to  Miss  Beau- 
bien,  and  was  not  his  practised  eye  watching  eagerly  the  beautiful  dark 
face  for  one  sign  that  the  news  was  welcome,  and  so  precipitate  the 
avowal  trembling  on  his  lips  that  it  was  her  he  madly  loved, — not 
Nina?  Though  she  hurriedly  bade  him  good-night,  though  she  was 
unprepared  for  any  such  announcement,  he  well  knew  that  Alice  Ken- 
wick's  heart  fluttered  at  the  earnestness  of  his  manner,  and  that  he  had 
indicated  far  more  than  he  had  said.  Fear — not  love — had  drawn  him 
to  Nina  Beaubien  that  night,  and  hope  had  centred  on  her  more  beau- 
tiful rival,  when  the  discoveries  of  the  night  involved  him  in  the  first 
trembling  symptoms  of  the  downfall  to  come.  And  he  was  to  have 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  299 

spent  the  morning  with  her,  the  woman  to  whom  he  had  litxl  in  word, 
while  she  to  whom  he  had  lied  in  word  and  deed  was  going  from  him, 
not  to  return  until  the  german,  and  even  then  he  planned  treachery. 
He  meant  to  lead  with  Alice  Kenwick  and  claim  that  it  must  be  with 
the  colonel's  daughter  because  the  ladies  of  the  garrison  were  the  givers. 
Then,  he  knew,  Nina  would  not  come  at  all,  and,  possibly,  might  quarrel 
with  him  on  that  ground.  What  could  have  been  an  easier  solution  of 
his  troublous  predicament  ?  She  would  break  their  secret  engagement  ; 
he  would  refuse  all  reconciliation,  and  be  free  to  devote  himself  to  Alice. 
But  all  these  grave  complications  had  arisen.  Alice  would  not  come. 
Nina  wrote  demanding  that  he  should  lead  with  her,  and  that  he  should 
meet  her  at  St.  Croix;  and  then  came  the  crash.  He  owed  his  safety 
to  her  self-sacrifice,  and  now  must  give  up  all  hope  of  Alice  Renwick. 
He  had  accepted  the  announcement  of  their  engagement.  He  could 
not  do  less,  after  all  that  had  happened  and  the  painful  scene  at  their 
parting.  And  yet  would  it  not  be  a  blessing  to  her  if  he  were  killed  ? 
Even  now  in  his  self-abnegation  and  misery  he  did  not  fully  realize 
how  mean  he  was, — how  mean  he  seemed  to  others.  He  resented  in 
his  heart  what  Sloat  had  said  of  him  but  the  day  before,  little  caring 
whether  he  heard  it  or  not :  "  It  would  be  a  mercy  to  that  poor  girl  if 
Jerrold  were  killed.  He  will  break  her  heart  with  neglect,  or  drive 
her  mad  with  jealousy,  inside  of  a  year."  But  the  regiment  seemed  to 
agree  with  Sloat. 

And  so  in  all  that  little  band  of  comrades  he  could  call  no  mau 
friend.  One  after  another  he  looked  upon  the  unconscious  faces,  cold 
and  averted  in  the  oblivion  of  sleep,  but  not  more  cold,  not  more  dis- 
trustful, than  when  he  had  vainly  sought  among  them  one  relenting 
glance  in  the  early  moonlight  that  battle  eve  in  bivouac.  He  threw 
his  arms  upward,  shook  his  head  with  hopeless  gesture,  then  buried  hit, 
face  in  the  sleeves  of  his  rough  campaign  overcoat  and  strode  blindly 
from  their  midst. 

Early  in  the  morning,  an  hour  before  daybreak,  the  shivering  out- 
post crouching  in  a  hollow  to  the  southward  catch  sight  of  two  dim 
figures  shooting  suddenly  up  over  a  distant  ridge, — horsemen,  they 
know  at  a  glance, — and  these  two  come  loping  down  the  moonlit  trail 
over  which  two  nights  before  had  marched  the  cavalry  speeding  to  the 
rescue,  over  which  in  an  hour  the  regiment  itself  must  be  on  the  move 
Old  campaigners  are  two  of  the  picket,  and  they  have  been  especially 
cautioned  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  couriers  coming  back  along  the  trail. 


300  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

They  spring  to  their  feet,  in  readiness  to  welcome  or  repel,  as  the  sentry 
rings  out  his  sharp  and  sudden  challenge. 

"  Couriers  from  the  corral,"  is  the  jubilant  answer.  "  This  Colonel 
Maynard's  outfit?" 

"Ay,  ay,  sonny,"  is  the  unmilitary  but  characteristic  answer. 
"What's  your  news?" 

"  Got  there  in  time,  and  saved  what's  left  of  'em ;  but  it's  a  hell- 
hole, and  you  fellows  are  wanted  quick  as  you  can  come, — thirty  miles 
ahead.  Where's  the  colonel  ?" 

The  corporal  of  the  guard  goes  back  to  the  bivouac,  leading  the 
two  arrivals.  One  is  a  scout,  a  plainsman  born  and  bred,  the  other  a 
sergeant  of  cavalry.  They  dismount  in  the  timber  and  picket  their 
horses,  then  follow  on  foot  the  lead  of  their  companion  of  the  guard. 
While  the  corporal  and  the  scout  proceed  to  the  wagon-fly  and  fumble 
at  the  opening,  the  tall  sergeant  stands  silently  a  little  distance  in  their 
rear,  and  the  occupants  of  a  neighboring  shelter — the  counterpart  of 
the  colonel's — begin  to  stir,  as  though  their  light  slumber  had  been 
broken  by  the  smothered  sound  of  footsteps.  One  of  them  sits  up  and 
peers  out  at  the  front,  gazing  earnestly  at  the  tall  figure  standing  easily 
there  in  the  flickering  light.  Then  he  hails  in  low  tones : 

"  That  you,  Mr.  Jerrold  ?     What  is  the  matter  ?" 

And  the  tall  figure  faces  promptly  towards  the  hailing  voice.  The 
spurred  heels  come  together  with  a  click,  the  gauntleted  hand  rises  in 
soldierly  salute  to  the  broad  brim  of  the  scouting-hat,  and  a  deep  voice 
answers,  respectfully, — 

"  It  is  not  Mr.  Jerrold,  sir.  It  is  Sergeant  McLeod, th  Cavalry, 

just  in  with  despatches." 

Armitage  springs  to  his  feet,  sheds  his  shell  of  blankets,  and  steps 
forth  into  the  glade  with  his  eyes  fixed  eagerly  on  the  shadowy  form  in 
front.  He  peers  under  the  broad  brim,  as  though  striving  to  see  the 
eyes  and  features  of  the  tall  dragoon. 

"Did  you  get  there  in  time?"  he  asks,  half  wondering  whether 
that  was  really  the  question  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"In  time  to  save  the  survivors,  sir;  but  no  attack  will  be  made 
until  the  infantry  get  there." 

"  Were  you  not  at  Sibley  last  month  ?"  asks  the  captain,  quickly. 

"  Yes,  sir, — with  the  competitors." 

"  You  went  back  before  your  regimental  team,  did  you  not?" 

"  I No,  sir :  I  went  back  with  them." 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  301 

"  You  were  relieved  from  duty  at  Sibley  and  ordered  back  befcie 
them,  were  you  not?" 

Even  in  the  pallid  light  Armitage  could  see  the  hesitation,  the  flurry 
of  surprise  and  distress,  in  the  sergeant's  face. 

"  Don't  fear  to  tell  me,  man :  I  would  rather  hear  it  than  any 
news  you  could  give  me.  I  would  rather  know  you  were  not  Sergeant 
McLeod  than  any  fact  you  could  tell.  Speak  low,  man,  but  tell  me 
here  and  now.  Whatever  motive  you  may  have  had  for  this  disguise, 
whatever  anger  or  sorrows  in  the  past,  you  must  sink  them  now  to  save 
the  honor  of  the  woman  your  madness  has  perilled.  Answer  me,  for 
your  sister's  sake :  are  you  not  Fred  Ren  wick  ?" 

"  Do  you  swear  to  me  she  is  in  danger  ?" 

"  By  all  that's  sacred ;  and  you  ought  to  know  it." 

"  I  am  Fred  Renwick.     Now  what  can  I  do  ?" 


XVIII. 

The  sun  is  not  an  hour  high,  but  the  bivouac  at  the  springs  is  far 
behind.  With  advance-guard  and  flankers  well  out,  the  regiment  is 
tramping  its  way,  full  of  eagerness  and  spirit.  The  men  can  hardly 
refrain  from  bursting  into  song,  but,  although  at  "  route  step,"  the  fact 
that  Indian  scouts  have  already  been  sighted  scurrying  from  bluff  to  bluff 
is  sufficient  to  warn  all  hands  to  be  silent  and  alert.  Wilton  with  his 
company  is  on  the  dangerous  flank,  and  guards  it  well.  Armitage  with 
Company  B  covers  the  advance,  and  his  men  are  strung  out  in  long 
skirmish-line  across  the  trail  wherever  the  ground  is  sufficiently  open 
to  admit  of  deployment.  Where  it  is  not,  they  spring  ahead  and  ex- 
plore every  point  where  Indian  may  lurk,  and  render  ambuscade  of 
the  main  column  impossible.  With  Armitage  is  McLeod,  the  cavalry 
sergeant  who  made  the  night  ride  with  the  scout  who  bore  the  de- 
spatches. The  scout  has  galloped  on  towards  the  railway  with  news  of 
the  rescue,  the  sergeant  guides  the  infantry  reinforcement.  Observant 
men  have  noted  that  Armitage  and  the  sergeant  have  had  a  vast  deal 
to  say  to  each  other  during  the  chill  hours  of  the  early  morn.  Others 
have  noted  that  at  the  first  brief  halt  the  captain  rode  back,  called 
Colonel  Maynard  to  one  side,  and  spoke  to  him  in  low  tones.  The 
colonel  was  seen  to  start  with  astonishment.  Then  he  said  a  few  words 
to  his  second  in  command,  and  rode  forward  with  Armitage  to  join  the 
advance.  When  the  regiment  moved  on  again  and  the  head  of  column 

26 


302  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

hove  in  sight  of  the  skirmishers,  they  saw  that  the  colonel,  Armitage, 
and  the  sergeant  of  cavalry  were  riding  side  by  side,  and  that  the  officers 
were  paying  close  attention  to  all  the  dragoon  was  saying.  All  were 
eager  to  hear  the  particulars  of  the  condition  of  affairs  at  the  corral, 
and  all  were  disposed  to  be  envious  of  the  mounted  captain  who  could 
ride  alongside  the  one  participant  in  the  rescuing  charge  and  get  it  all 
at  first  hand.  The  field-officers,  of  course,  were  mounted,  but  every 
line-officer  inarched  afoot  with  his  men,  except  that  three  horses  had 
been  picked  up  at  the  railway  and  impressed  by  the  quartermaster  in 
case  of  need,  and  these  were  assigned  to  the  captains  who  happened  to 
command  the  skirmishers  and  flankers. 

But  no  man  had  the  faintest  idea  what  manner  of  story  that  tall 
sergeant  was  telling.  It  would  have  been  of  interest  to  every  soldier 
in  the  command,  but  to  no  one  so  much  so  as  to  the  two  who  were  his 
absorbed  listeners.  Armitage,  before  their  early  march,  had  frankly 
and  briefly  set  before  him  his  suspicions  as  to  the  case,  and  the  trouble 
in  which  Miss  Renwick  was  involved.  No  time  was  to  be  lost.  Any 
moment  might  find  them  plunged  in  fierce  battle ;  and  who  could  fore- 
tell the  results  ? — who  could  say  what  might  happen  to  prevent  this 
her  vindication  ever  reaching  the  ears  of  her  accusers  ?  Some  men 
wondered  why  it  was  that  Colonel  Maynard  sent  his  compliments  to 
Captain  Chester  and  begged  that  at  the  next  halt  he  would  join  him. 
The  halt  did  not  come  for  a  long  hour,  and  when  it  did  come  it  was 
very  brief,  but  Chester  received  another  message,  and  went  forward  to 
find  his  colonel  sitting  in  a  little  grove  with  the  cavalryman,  while 
the  orderly  held  their  horses  a  short  space  away.  Armitage  had  gone 
forward  to  his  advance,  and  Chester  showed  no  surprise  at  the  sight 
of  the  sergeant  seated  side  by  side  with  the  colonel  and  in  confidential 
converse  with  him.  There  was  a  quaint,  sly  twinkle  in  Maynard's 
eyes  as  he  greeted  his  old  friend. 

"  Chester,"  said  he,  "  I  want  you  to  be  better  acquainted  with  my 
step-son,  Mr.  Renwick.  He  has  an  apology  to  make  to  you." 

The  tall  soldier  had  risen  the  instant  he  caught  sight  of  the  new- 
comer, and  even  at  the  half-playful  tone  of  the  colonel  would  relax  in 
no  degree  his  soldierly  sense  of  the  proprieties.  He  stood  erect  and  held 
his  hand  at  the  salute,  only  very  slowly  lowering  it  to  take  the  one 
so  frankly  extended  him  by  the  captain,  who,  however,  was  grave  and 
quiet. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  303 

"I  have  suspected  as  much  since  daybreak,"  he  said;  "and  no 
man  is  gladder  to  know  it  is  you  than  I  am." 

"  You  would  have  known  it  before,  sir,  had  I  had  the  faintest  idea 
of  the  danger  in  which  my  foolhardiness  had  involved  my  sister.  The 
colonel  has  told  you  of  my  story.  I  have  told  him  and  Captain 
Armitage  what  led  to  my  mad  freak  at  Sibley;  and,  while  I  have 
much  tc  make  amends  for,  I  want  to  apologize  for  the  blow  I  gave 
you  that  night  on  the  terrace.  I  was  far  more  scared  than  you  were, 
sir." 

"I  think  we  can  afford  to  forgive  him,  Chester.  He  knocked  us' 
both  out,"  said  the  colonel. 

Chester  bowed  gravely.  "  That  was  the  easiest  part  of  the  affair 
to  forgive,"  he  said,  "and  it  is  hardly  for  me,  I  presume,  to  be  the 
only  one  to  blame  the  sergeant  for  the  trouble  that  has  involved  us 
all,  especially  your  household,  colonel." 

"  It  was  expensive  masquerading,  to  say  the  least,"  replied  the  colo- 
nel ;  "  but  he  never  realized  the  consequences  until  Armitage  told  him 
to-day.  You  must  hear  his  story  in  brief,  Chester.  It  is  needful  that 
three  or  four  of  us  know  it,  so  that  some  may  be  left  to  set  things  right 
at  Sibley.  God  grant  us  all  safe  return  !"  he  added,  piously,  and  with 
deep  emotion.  "  I  can  far  better  appreciate  our  home  and  happiness 
than  I  could  a  month  ago.  Now,  Renwick,  tell  the  captain  what  you 
have  told  us." 

And  briefly  it  was  told :  how  in  his  youthful  fury  he  had  sworn 
never  again  to  set  foot  within  the  door  of  the  father  and  mother  who  had 
so  wronged  the  poor  girl  he  loved  with  boyish  fervor ;  how  he  called 
down  the  vengeance  of  heaven  upon  them  hi  his  frenzy  and  distress ; 
how  he  had  sworn  never  again  to  set  eyes  on  their  faces.  "  May  God 
strike  me  dead  if  ever  I  return  to  this  roof  until  she  is  avenged  ! 
May  He  deal  with  you  as  you  have  dealt  with  her  !"  was  the  curse  that 
flew  from  his  wild  lips,  and  with  that  he  left  them,  stunned.  He  went 
West,  was  soon  penniless,  and,  caring  not  what  he  did,  seeking  change, 
adventure,  anything  to  take  him  out  of  his  past,  he  enlisted  in  the 

cavalry,  and  was  speedily  drafted  to  the th,  which  was  just  starting 

forth  on  a  stirring  summer  campaign.  He  was  a  fine  horseman,  a  fine 
shot,  a  man  who  instantly  attracted  the  notice  of  his  officers  :  the  cam- 
paign was  full  of  danger,  adventure,  rapid  and  constant  marching,  and 
before  he  knew  it  or  dreamed  it  possible  he  had  become  deeply  in- 
terested in  his  new  life.  Only  in  the  monotony  of  a  month  or  two  ill 


304  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

garrison  that  winter  did  the  service  seem  intolerable.  His  comrades 
were  rough,  in  the  main,  but  thoroughly  good-hearted,  and  he  soon 
won  their  esteem.  The  spring  sent  them  again  into  the  field ;  another 
stirring  campaign,  and  here  he  won  his  stripes,  and  words  of  praise 
from  the  lips  of  a  veteran  general  officer,  as  well  as  the  promise  of 
future  reward ;  and  then  the  love  of  soldierly  deeds  and  the  thirst  for 
soldierly  renown  took  firm  hold  in  his  breast.  He  began  to  turn  towards 
the  mother  and  father  who  had  been  wrapped  up  in  his  future, — who 
loved  him  so  devotedly.  He  was  forgetting  his  early  and  passionate 
love,  and  the  bitter  sorrow  of  her  death  was  losing  fast  its  poignant 
power  to  steel  him  against  his  kindred.  He  knew  they  could  not  but 

be  proud  of  the  record  he  had  made  in  the  ranks  of  the  gallant th, 

and  then  he  shrank  and  shivered  when  he  recalled  the  dreadful  words 
of  his  curse.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  write,  implore  pardon  for 
his  hideous  and  unfilial  language,  and  invoke  their  interest  in  his 
career,  when,  returning  to  Fort  Raines  for  supplies,  he  picked  up  a 
New  York  paper  in  the  reading-room  and  read  the  announcement  of 
his  father's  death,  "  whose  health  had  been  broken  ever  since  the  dis- 
appearance of  his  only  son,  two  years  before."  The  memory  of  his 
malediction  had,  indeed,  come  home  to  him,  and  he  fell,  stricken  by  a 
sudden  and  unaccountable  blow.  It  seemed  as  though  his  heart  had 
given  one  wild  leap,  then  stopped  forever.  Things  did  not  go  so  well 
after  this.  He  brooded  over  his  words,  and  believed  that  an  avenging 
God  had  launched  the  bolt  that  killed  the  father  as  punishment  to  the 
stubborn  and  recreant  son.  He  then  bethought  him  of  his  mother,  of 

Eretty  Alice,  who  had  loved  him  so  as  a  little  girl.  He  could  not 
ring  himself  to  write,  but  through  inquiries  he  learned  that  the  house 
was  closed  and  that  they  had  gone  abroad.  He  plodded  on  in  his  duties 
a  trying  year  :  then  came  more  lively  field-work  and  reviving  interest. 
He  was  forgetting  entirely  the  sting  of  his  first  great  sorrow,  and 
mourning  gravely  the  gulf  he  had  placed  'twixt  him  and  his.  He 
thought  time  and  again  of  his  cruel  words,  and  something  began  to 
whisper  to  him  he  must  see  that  mother  again  at  once,  kiss  her  hand, 
and  implore  her  forgiveness,  or  she,  too,  would  be  stricken  suddenly. 
He  saved  up  his  money,  hoping  that  after  the  summer's  rifle-work  at 
Sibley  he  might  get  a  furlough  and  go  East ;  and  the  night  he  arrived 
at  the  fort,  tired  with  his  long  railway-journey  and  panting  after  a  long 
and  difficult  climb  up-hill,  his  mother's  face  swam  suddenly  before  his 
eyes,  and  he  felt  himself  going  down.  When  they  brought  him  to, 


FROM  THE  HANKS.  305 

he  heard  that  the  ladies  were  Mrs.  Maynard  and  her  daughter  Miss 
Ren  wick, — his  own  mother,  remarried,  his  own  Alice,  a  grown  young 
woman.  This  was,  indeed,  news  to  put  him  in  a  flutter  and  spoil  his 
shooting.  He  realized  at  once  that  the  gulf  was  wider  than  ever. 
How  could  he  go  to  her  now,  the  wife  of  a  colonel,  and  he  an  enlisted 
man  ?  Like  other  soldiers,  he  forgot  that  the  line  of  demarcation  was 
one  of  discipline,  not  of  sympathy.  He  did  not  realize  what  any 
soldier  among  his  officers  would  gladly  have  told  him,  that  he  was 
most  worthy  to  reveal  himself  now, — a  non-commissioned  officer  whose 
record  was  an  honor  to  himself  and  to  his  regiment,  a  soldier  of  whom 
officers  and  comrades  alike  were  proud.  He  never  dreamed — indeed, 
how  few  there  are  who  do ! — that  a  man  of  his  character,  standing, 
and  ability  is  honored  and  respected  by  the  very  men  whom  the  cus- 
toms of  the  service  require  him  to  speak  with  only  when  spoken  to. 
He  supposed  that  only  as  Fred  Renwick  could  he  extend  his  hand  to 
one  of  their  number,  whereas  it  was  under  his  soldier  name  he  won 
their  trust  and  admiration,  and  it  was  as  Sergeant  McLeod  the  officers 

of  the th  were  backing  him  for  a  commission  that  would  make  him 

what  they  deemed  him  fit  to  be, — their  equal.  Unable  to  penetrate  the 
armor  of  reserve  and  discipline  which  separates  the  officer  from  the 
rank  and  file,  he  never  imagined  that  the  colonel  would  have  been  the 
first  to  welcome  him  had  he  known  the  truth.  He  believed  that  now 
his  last  chance  of  seeing  his  mother  was  gone  until  that  coveted  com- 
mission was  won.  Then  came  another  blow :  the  doctor  told  him  that 
with  his  heart-trouble  he  could  never  pass  the  physical  examination : 
he  could  not  hope  for  preferment,  then,  and  must  see  her  as  he  was,  and 
see  her  secretly  and  alone.  Then  came  blow  after  blow.  His  shooting 
had  failed,  so  had  that  of  others  of  his  regiment,  and  he  was  ordered 
to  return  in  charge  of  the  party  early  on  the  morrow.  The  order 
reached  him  late  in  the  evening,  and  before  breakfast-time  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  he  was  directed  to  start  with  his  party  for  town,  thence  by 
rail  to  his  distant  post  That  night,  in  desperation,  he  made  his  plan. 
Twice  before  he  had  strolled  down  to  the  post  and  with  yearning  eyes 
had  studied  every  feature  of  the  colonel's  house.  He  dared  ask  no 
questions  of  servants  or  of  the  men  in  garrison,  but  he  learned  enough 
to  know  which  rooms  were  theirs,  and  he  had  noted  that  the  windows 
were  always  open.  If  he  could  only  see  their  loved  faces,  kneel  and 
kiss  his  mother's  hand,  pray  God  to  forgive  him,  he  could  go  away 
believing  that  he  had  undone  the  spell  and  i evoked  the  malediction 


306  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

of  his  early  youth.  It  was  hazardous,  but  worth  the  danger.  He 
could  go  in  peace  and  sin  no  more  towards  mother,  at  least ;  and  then 
if  she  mourned  and  missed  him,  could  he  not  find  it  oui  some  day  and 
make  himself  known  to  her  after  his  discharge  ?  He  slipped  out  of 
camp,  leaving  his  boots  behind,  and  wearing  his  light  Apache  moccasins 
and  flannel  shirt  and  trousers.  Danger  to  himself  he  had  no  great 
fear  of.  If  by  any  chance  mother  or  sister  should  wake,  he  had  but 
to  stretch  forth  his  hand  and  say,  "  It  is  only  I, — Fred."  Danger  to 
them  he  never  dreamed  of. 

Strong  and  athletic,  despite  his  slender  frame,  he  easily  lifted  the 
ladder  from  Jerrold's  fence,  and,  dodging  the  sentry  when  he  spied  him 
at  the  gate,  finally  took  it  down  back  of  the  colonel's  and  raised  it  to  a 
rear  window.  By  the  strangest  chance  the  window  was  closed,  and  he 
could  not  budge  it.  Then  he  heard  the  challenge  of  a  sentry  around 
on  the  east  front,  and  had  just  time  to  slip  down  and  lower  the  ladder 
when  he  heard  the  rattle  of  a  sword  and  knew  it  must  be  the  officer 
of  the  day.  There  was  no  time  to  carry  off  the  ladder.  He  left  it 
lying  where  it  was,  and  sprang  down  the  steps  towards  the  station. 
Soon  he  heard  Number  Five  challenge,  and  knew  the  officer  had  passed 
on :  he  waited  some  time,  but  nothing  occurred  to  indicate  that  the 
ladder  was  discovered,  and  then,  plucking  up  courage  and  with  a  mut- 
tered prayer  for  guidance  and  protection,  he  stole  up-hill  again,  raised 
the  ladder  to  the  west  wall,  noiselessly  ascended,  peered  in  Alice's  win- 
dow and  could  see  a  faint  night-light  burning  in  the  hall  beyond,  but 
that  all  was  darkness  there,  stole  around  on  the  roof  of  the  piazza  to 
the  hall  window,  stepped  noiselessly  upon  the  sill,  climbed  over  the 
lowered  sash,  and  found  himself  midway  between  the  rooms.  He 
could  hear  the  colonel's  placid  snoring  and  the  regular  breathing  of  the 
other  sleepers.  No  time  was  to  be  lost.  Shading  the  little  night-lamp 
with  one  hand,  he  entered  the  open  door,  stole  to  the  bedside,  took  one 
long  look  at  his  mother's  face,  knelt,  breathed  upon,  but  barely  brushed 
with  his  trembling  lips,  the  queenly  white  hand  that  lay  upon  the  co\ 
erlet,  poured  forth  one  brief  prayer  to  God  for  protection  and  blessing 
for  her  and  forgiveness  for  him,  retraced  his  steps,  and  caught  sight  of 
the  lovely  picture  of  Alice  in  the  Directoire  costume.  He  longed  for  it 
and  could  not  resist.  She  had  grown  so  beautiful,  so  exquisite.  He 
took  it,  frame  and  all,  carried  it  into  her  room,  slipped  the  card  from 
its  place  and  hid  it  inside  the  breast  of  his  shirt,  stowed  the  frame  away 
behind  her  sofa-pillow,  then  looked  long  at  the  lovely  picture  she  her- 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  307 

self  made,  lying  there  sleeping  sweetly  and  peacefully  amid  the  white 
drapings  of  her  dainty  bed.  Then  'twas  time  to  go.  He  put  the  lamp 
back  in  the  hall,  passed  through  her  room,  out  at  her  window,  and 
down  the  ladder,  and  had  it  well  on  the  way  back  to  the  hooks  on 
Jerrold's  fence  when  seized  and  challenged  by  the  officer  of  the  day. 
Mad  terror  possessed  him  then.  He  struck  blindly,  dashed  off  in 
panicky  flight,  paid  no  heed  to  sentry's  cry  or  whistling  missile,  but 
tore  like  a  racer  up  the  path  and  never  slackened  speed  till  Sibley  was 
far  behind. 

When  morning  came,  the  order  that  they  should  go  was  temporarily 
suspended  :  some  prisoners  were  sent  to  a  neighboring  military  prison, 
and  he  was  placed  in  charge,  and  on  his  return  from  this  duty  learned 
that  the  colonel's  family  had  gone  to  Sablon.  The  next  thing  there 
was  some  strange  talk  that  worried  him, — a  story  that  one  of  the  men 
who  had  a  sweetheart  who  was  second  girl  at  Mrs.  Hoyt's  brought  out 
to  camp, — a  story  that  there  was  an  officer  who  was  too  much  in  love 
with  Alice  to  keep  away  from  the  house  even  after  the  colonel  so 
ordered,  and  that  he  was  prowling  around  the  other  night  and  the 
colonel  ordered  Leary  to  shoot  him, — Leary,  who  was  on  post  on 
Number  Five.  He  felt  sure  that  something  was  wrong, — felt  sure  that 
it  was  due  to  his  night  visit, — and  his  first  impulse  was  to  find  his 
mother  and  confide  the  truth  to  her.  He  longed  to  see  her  again,  and, 
if  harm  had  been  done,  to  make  himself  known  and  explain  everything. 
Having  no  duties  to  detain  him,  he  got  a  pass  to  visit  town  and  permis- 
sion to  be  gone  a  day  or  more.  On  Saturday  evening  he  ran  down  to 
Sablon,  drove  over,  as  Captain  Armitage  had  already  told  them,  and, 
peering  in  his  mother's  room,  saw  her,  still  up,  though  in  her  night- 
dress. He  never  dreamed  of  the  colonel's  being  out  and  watching. 
He  had  "scouted"  all  those  trees,  and  no  one  was  nigh.  Then  he 
softly  called ;  she  heard,  and  was  coming  to  him,  when  again  came  fierce 
attack :  he  had  all  a  soldier's  reverence  for  the  person  of  the  colonel, 
and  would  never  have  harmed  him  had  he  known  'twas  he :  it  was  the 
night  watchman  that  had  grappled  with  him,  he  supposed,  and  he  had 
no  compunctions  in  sending  him  to  grass.  Then  he  fled  again,  knowing 
that  he  had  only  made  bad  worse,  walked  all  that  night  to  the  station 
next  north  of  Sablon, — a  big  town  where  the  early  morning  train 
always  stopped, — and  by  ten  on  Sunday  morning  he  was  in  uniform 
again  and  off  with  his  regimental  comrades  under  orders  to  haste 
to  their  station, — there  was  trouble  with  the  Indians  at  Spirit  Rock 


308  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

and  the th  were  held  in  readiness.     From  beneath  his  scouting- 

shirt  he  drew  a  flat  packet,  an  Indian  case,  which  he  carefully  un- 
^olled,  and  there  in  its  folds  of  wrappings  was  the  lovely  Directoire 
photograph. 

Whose,  then,  was  the  one  that  Sloat  had  seen  in  Jerrold' s  room  ? 
It  was  this  that  Armitage  had  gone  forward  to  determine,  and  he  found 
his  sad-eyed  lieutenant  with  the  skirmishers. 

"Jerrold,"  said  he,  with  softened  manner,  "a  strange  thing  is 
brought  to  light  this  morning,  and  I  lose  no  time  in  telling  you.  The 
man  who  was  seen  at  Maynard's  quarters,  coming  from  Miss  Renwick's  ' 
room,  was  her  own  brother  and  the  colonel's  step-son.  He  was  the 
man  who  took  the  photograph  from  Mrs.  Maynard's  room,  and  has 
proved  it  this  very  day, — this  very  hour."  Jerrold  glanced  up  in 
sudden  surprise.  "  He  is  with  us  now,  and  only  one  thing  remains, 
which  you  can  clear  up.  We  are  going  into  action,  and  I  may  not  get 
through,  nor  you,  nor — who  knows  who  ?  Will  you  tell  us  now  how 
you  came  by  your  copy  of  that  photograph  ?" 

For  answer  Jerrold  fumbled  in  his  pocket  a  moment  and  drew  forth 
two  letters : 

"  I  wrote  these  last  night,  and  it  was  my  intention  to  see  that  you 
had  them  before  it  grew  very  hot.  One  is  addressed  to  you,  the  other 
to  Miss  Beaubien.  You  had  better  take  them  now,"  he  said,  wearily. 
"  There  may  be  no  time  to  talk  after  this.  Send  hers  after  it's  over, 
and  don't  read  yours  until  then." 

"  Why,  I  don't  understand  this,  exactly,"  said  Armitage,  puzzled. 
" Can't  you  tell  me  about  the  picture?" 

"  No.  I  promised  not  to  while  I  lived ;  but  it's  the  simplest  matter 
in  the  world,  and  no  one  at  the  colonel's  had  any  hand  in  it.  They 
never  saw  this  one  that  I  got  to  show  Sloat.  It  is  burned  now.  I 
said  'twas  given  me.  That  was  hardly  the  truth.  I  have  paid  for  it 
dearly  enough." 

"  And  this  note  explains  it  ?" 

"  Yes.     You  can  read  it  to-morrow." 


And  the  morrow  has  come.  Down  in  a  deep  and  bluff-shadowed 
valley,  hung  all  around  with  picturesque  crags  and  pine-crested  heights, 
under  a  cloudless  September  sun  whose  warmth  is  tempered  by  the 


FROM  THE  BANKS.  309 

mountain-breeze,  a  thousand  rough-looking,  bronzed  and  bearded  and 
powder -blackened  men  are  resting  after  battle. 

Here  and  there  on  distant  ridge  and  point  the  cavalry  vedettes  keep 
vigilant  watch  against  surprise  or  renewed  attack.  Down  along  the 
banks  of  a  clear,  purling  stream  a  sentry  paces  slowly  by  the  brown 
line  of  rifles,  swivel-stacked  in  the  sunshine.  Men  by  the  dozen  are 
washing  their  blistered  feet  and  grimy  hands  and  faces  in  the  cool,  re- 
freshing water ;  men  by  the  dozen  tie  soundly  sleeping,  some  in  the 
broad  glare,  some  in  the  shade  of  the  little  clump  of  willows,  all  heed- 
less of  the  pestering  swarms  of  flies.  Out  on  the  broad,  grassy  slopes, 
side-lined  and  watched  by  keen-eyed  guards,  the  herds  of  cavalry  horses 
are  quietly  grazing,  forgetful  of  the  wild  excitement  of  yester-even. 
Every  now  and  then  some  one  of  them  lifts  his  head,  pricks  up  his 
ears,  and  snorts  and  stamps  suspiciously  as  he  sniffs  at  the  puffs  of 
smoke  that  come  drifting  up  the  valley  from  the  fires  a  mile  away. 
The  waking  men,  too,  bestow  an  occasional  comment  on  the  odor  which 
greets  their  nostrils.  Down-stream  where  the  fires  are  burning  are 
the  blackened  remnants  of  a  wagon-train :  tires,  bolts,  and  axles  are 
lying  about,  but  all  wood-work  is  in  smouldering  ashes ;  so,  too,  is  all 
that  remains  of  several  hundred-weight  of  stores  and  supplies  destined 
originally  to  nourish  the  Indians,  but,  by  them,  diverted  to  feed  the 
fire. 

There  is  a  big  circle  of  seething  flame  and  rolling  smoke  here,  too, 
— a  malodorous  neighborhood,  around  which  fatigue-parties  are  work- 
ing with  averted  heads ;  and  among  them  some  surly  and  unwilling 
Indians,  driven  to  labor  at  the  muzzle  of  threatening  revolver  or  car- 
bine, aid  in  dragging  to  the  flames  carcass  after  carcass  of  horse  and 
mule,  and  in  gathering  together  and  throwing  on  the  pyre  an  array  of 
miscellaneous  soldier  garments,  blouses,  shirts,  and  trousers,  all  more 
or  less  hacked  and  blood-stained, — all  of  no  more  use  to  mortal  wearer. 

Out  on  the  southern  slopes,  just  where  a  ravine  crowded  with  wild- 
rose  bushes  opens  into  the  valley,  more  than  half  the  command  is  gath- 
ered, formed  in  rectangular  lines  about  a  number  of  shallow,  elongated 
pits,  in  each  of  which  there  lies  the  stiffening  form  of  a  comrade  who 
but  yesterday  joined  in  the  battle-cheer  that  burst  upon  the  valley  with 
the  setting  sun.  Silent  and  reverent  they  stand  in  their  rough  cam- 
paign garb.  The  escort  of  infantry  "  rests  on  arms  ;"  the  others  bow 
their  uncovered  heads,  and  it  is  the  voice  of  the  veteran  colonel  ihat, 
in  accents  trembling  with  sympathy  and  emotion,  renders  the  last 


310  FROM  THE  BANKS. 

tribute  to  fallen  comrades  and  lifts  to  heaven  the  prayers  for  the  dead. 
Then  see  !  The  mourning  groups  break  away  from  the  southern  side ; 
the  brown  rifles  of  the  escort  are  lifted  in  air;  the  listening  rocks 
resound  to  the  sudden  ring  of  the  flashing  volley ;  the  soft,  low, 
wailing  good-by  of  the  trumpets  goes  floating  up  the  vale,  and  soon 
the  burial-parties  are  left  alone  to  cover  the  once  familiar  faces  with 
the  earth  to  which  the  soldier  must  return,  and  the  comrades  who  are 
left,  foot  and  dragoon,  come  marching,  silent,  back  to  camp. 

And  when  the  old  regiment  begins  its  homeward  journey,  leaving 
the  well-won  field  to  the  fast-arriving  commands  and  bidding  hearty 
soldier  farewell  to  the  cavalry  comrades  whose  friendship  they  gained 
in  the  front  of  a  savage  foe,  the  company  that  was  the  first  to  land  its 
fire  in  the  fight  goes  back  with  diminished  numbers  and  under  com- 
mand of  its  second  lieutenant.  Alas,  poor  Jerrold  ! 

There  is  a  solemn  little  group  around  the  camp-fire  the  night  before 
they  go.  Frank  Armitage,  flat  on  his  back,  with  a  rifle-bullet  through 
his  thigh,  but  taking  things  very  coolly  for  all  that,  is  having  a  quiet 
conference  with  his  colonel.  Such  of  the  wounded  of  the  entire  com- 
mand as  are  well  enough  to  travel  by  easy  stages  to  the  railway  go  with 
Maynard  and  the  regiment  in  the  morning,  and  Sergeant  McLeod,  with 
his  sabre-arm  in  a  sling,  is  one  of  these.  But  the  captain  of  Company 
B  must  wait  until  the  surgeons  can  lift  him  along  in  an  ambulance  and 
all  fear  of  fever  has  subsided.  To  the  colonel  and  Chester  he  hands 
the  note  which  is  all  that  is  left  to  comfort  poor  Nina  Beaubien.  To 
them  he  reads  aloud  the  note  addressed  to  himself: 

"  You  are  right  in  saying  that  the  matter  of  my  possession  of  that 
photograph  should  be  explained.  I  seek  no  longer  to  palliate  my 
action.  In  making  that  puppy ish  bet  with  Sloat  I  did  jelieve  that  I 
could  induce  Miss  Ren  wick  or  her  mother  to  let  me  have  a  copy ;  but 
I  was  refused  so  positively  that  I  knew  it  was  useless.  This  simply 
added  to  my  desire  to  have  one.  The  photographer  was  the  same  that 
took  the  pictures  and  furnished  the  albums  for  our  class  at  graduation, 
and  I,  more  than  any  one,  had  been  instrumental  in  getting  the  order 
for  him  against  very  active  opposition.  He  had  always  professed  the 
greatest  gratitude  to  me  and  a  willingness  to  do  anything  for  me.  I 
wrote  to  him  in  strict  confidence,  told  him  of  the  intimate  and  close 
relations  existing  between  the  colonel's  family  and  me,  told  him  I 
wanted  it  to  enlarge  and  present  to  her  mother  on  her  approaching 
birthday,  and  promised  him  that  I  would  never  reveal  how  I  came  by 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  311 

the  picture  so  long  as  I  lived ;  and  he  sent  me  one,— just  in  time. 
Have  I  not  paid  heavily  for  my  sin  ?" 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment.  Chester  was  the  first  to  break  the 
silence : 

"  Poor  fellow !  He  kept  his  word  to  the  photographer ;  but  what 
was  it  worth  to  a  woman  ?" 

There  had  been  a  week  of  wild  anxiety  and  excitement  at  Sibley. 
It  was  known  through  the  columns  of  the  press  that  the  regiment  had 
hurried  forward  from  the  railway  the  instant  it  reached  the  Colorado 
trail,  that  it  could  not  hope  to  get  through  to  the  valley  of  the  Spirit 
Wolf  without  a  fight,  and  that  the  moment  it  succeeded  in  joining 
hands  with  the  cavalry  already  there  a  vigorous  attack  would  be  made 
on  the  Indians.  The  news  of  the  rescue  of  the  survivors  of  Thornton's 
command  came  first,  and  with  it  the  tidings  that  Maynard  and  his  regi- 
ment were  met  only  thirty  miles  from  the  scene  and  were  pushing  for- 
ward. The  next  news  came  two  days  later,  and  a  wail  went  up  even 
while  men  were  shaking  hands  and  rejoicing  over  the  gallant  fight  that 
had  been  made,  and  women  were  weeping  for  joy  and  thanking  God 
that  those  whom  they  held  dearest  were  safe.  It  was  down  among  the 
wives  of  the  sergeants  aud  other  veterans  that  the  blow  struck  hardest 
at  Sibley ;  for  the  stricken  officers  were  unmarried  men,  while  among 
the  rank  and  file  there  were  several  who  never  came  back  to  the  little 
ones  who  bore  their  name.  Company  B  had  suffered  most,  for  the 
Indians  had  charged  fiercely  on  its  deployed  but  steadfast  line.  Armi- 
tage  almost  choked  and  broke  down  when  telling  the  colonel  about  it 
that  night  as  he  lay  under  the  willows  :  "  It  was  the  first  smile  I  had 
seen  on  his  face  since  I  got  back, — that  with  which  he  looked  up  in 
my  eyes  and  whispered  good-by, — and  died, — just  after  we  drove  them 
back.  My  turn  came  later."  Old  Sloat,  too,  "had  his  customary 
crack,"  as  he  expressed  it, — a  shot  through  the  wrist  that  made  him 
hop  and  swear  savagely  until  some  of  the  men  got  to  laughing  at  the 
comical  figure  he  cut,  and  then  he  turned  and  damned  them  with  hearty 
good  will,  and  seemed  all  oblivious  of  the  bullets  that  went  zipping 
past  his  frosting  head.  Young  Rollins,  to  his  inexpressible  pride  and 
comfort,  had  a  bulla  -hole  through  his  scouting-hat  and  another  through 
his  shoulder-strap  that  raised  a  big  welt  on  the  white  skin  beneath,  but, 
to  the  detriment  of  promotion,  no  captain  was  killed,  and  Jerrold  gave 
the  only  file. 

The  one  question  «t  Sibley  was,  "What  will  Nina  Beaubien  do?5' 


312  FROM  THE  EANKS. 

She  did  nothing.  She  would  see  nobody  from  the  instant  the  newa 
came.  She  had  hardly  slept  at  night, — was  always  awake  at  dawn  and 
out  at  the  gate  to  get  the  earliest  copy  of  the  morning  papers ;  but  the 
news  reached  them  at  nightfall,  and  when  some  of  the  ladies  from  the 
fort  drove  in  to  offer  their  sympathy  and  condolence  in  the  morning, 
and  to  make  tender  inquiry,  the  answer  at  the  door  was  that  Miss 
Nina  saw  nobody,  that  her  mother  alone  was  with  her,  and  that  "  she 
was  very  still."  And  so  it  went  for  some  days.  Then  there  came  the 
return  of  the  command  to  Sibley ;  and  hundreds  of  people  went  up 
from  town  to  see  the  six  companies  of  the  fort  garrison  march  up 
the  winding  road  amid  the  thunder  of  welcome  from  the  guns  of  the 
light  battery  and  the  exultant  strains  of  the  band.  Mrs.  Maynard  and 
Alice  were  the  only  ladies  of  the  circle  who  were  not  there :  a  son  and 
brother  had  joined  them,  after  long  absence,  at  Aunt  Grace's  cottage 
at  Sablon,  was  the  explanation,  and  the  colonel  would  bring  them  home 
in  a  few  days,  after  he  had  attended  to  some  important  matters  at  the 
fort.  In  the  first  place,  Chester  had  to  see  to  it  that  the  tongue  of 
scandal  was  slit,  so  far  as  the  colonel's  household  was  concerned,  and 
all  good  people  notified  that  no  such  thing  had  happened  as  was  popu- 
larly supposed  (and  "  everybody"  received  the  announcement  with  the 
remark  that  she  knew  all  along  it  couldn't  be  so),  and  that  a  grievous 
and  absurd  but  most  mortifying  blunder  had  been  made.  It  was  a 
most  unpleasant  ghost  to  "  down,"  the  shadow  of  that  scandal,  for  it 
would  come  up  to  the  surface  of  garrison  chat  at  all  manner  of  con- 
fidential moments ;  but  no  man  or  woman  could  safely  speak  of  it  to 
Chester.  It  was  gradually  assumed  that  he  was  the  man  who  had  done 
all  the  blundering  and  that  he  was  supersensitive  on  the  subject. 

There  was  another  thing  never  satisfactorily  explained  to  some  of 
the  garrison  people,  and  that  was  Nina  Beaubien's  strange  conduct.  In 
less  than  a  week  uhe  was  seen  on  the  street  in  colors, — brilliant  colors, 
— when  it  was  known  she  had  ordered  deep  mourning,  and  then  she 
suddenly  disappeared  and  went  with  her  silent  old  mother  abroad. 
To  this  day  no  woman  in  society  understands  it,  for  when  she  came 
back,  long,  long  afterwards,  it  was  a  subject  on  which  she  would  never 
speak.  There  were  one  or  two  who  ventured  to  ask,  and  the  answer 
was,  "  For  reasons  that  concern  me  alone."  But  it  took  no  great  power 
of  mental  vision  to  see  that  her  heart  wore  black  for  him  forever. 

His  letter  explained  it  all.  She  had  received  it  with  a  paroxysm 
of  passionate  grief  and  joy,  kissed  it,  covered  it  with  wildest  caresses 


FROM  THE  RANK&  313 

before  she  began  to  read,  and  then,  little  by  little,  as  the  words  un- 
folded before  her  staring  eyes,  turned  cold  as  stone : 

"  It  is  my  last  night  of  life,  Nina,  and  I  am  glad  'tis  so.  Proud 
and  sensitive  as  I  am,  the  knowledge  that  every  man  in  my  regiment 
has  turned  from  me, — that  I  have  not  a  friend  among  them, — that 
there  is  no  longer  a  place  for  me  in  their  midst, — more  than  all,  that  I 
deserve  their  contempt, — has  broken  my  heart.  We  will  be  in  battle 
l>efore  the  setting  of  another  sun.  Any  man  who  seeks  death  in  In- 
dian fight  can  find  it  easily  enough,  and  I  can  compel  their  respect  in 
spite  of  themselves.  They  will  not  recognize  me,  living,  as  one  of  them  ; 
but  dying  on  the  field,  they  have  to  place  me  on  their  roll  of  honor. 

"But  now  I  turn  to  you.  What  have  I  been, — what  am  I, — to 
have  won  such  love  as  yours  ?  May  God  in  heaven  forgive  me  for  my 
past !  All  too  late  I  hate  and  despise  the  man  I  have  been, — the  man 
whom  you  loved.  One  last  act  of  justice  remains.  If  I  died  without 
it  you  would  mourn  me  faithfully,  tenderly,  lovingly,  for  years,  but  if  I 
tell  the  truth  you  will  see  the  utter  unworthiness  of  the  man,  and  your 
love  will  turn  to  contempt.  It  is  hard  to  do  this,  knowing  that  in 
doing  it  I  kill  the  only  genuine  regret  and  dry  the  only  tear  that 
would  bless  my  memory ;  but  it  is  the  one  sacrifice  I  can  make  to  com- 
plete my  self-humiliation,  and  it  is  the  one  thing  that  is  left  me  that 
will  free  you.  It  will  sting  at  first,  but,  like  the  surgeon's  knife,  its 
cut  is  mercy.  Nina,  the  very  night  I  came  to  you  on  the  bluffs,  the 
very  night  you  perilled  your  honor  to  have  that  parting  interview,  I 
went  to  you  with  a  lie  on  my  lips.  I  had  told  her  we  were  nothing  to 
each  other, — you  and  I.  More  than  that,  I  was  seeking  her  love ;  I 
hoped  I  could  win  her  j  and  had  she  loved  me  I  would  have  turned 
from  you  to  make  her  my  wife.  Nina,  I  loved  Alice  Renwick.  Good- 
by.  Don't  mourn  for  me  after  this." 

XX. 

They  were  having  a  family  conclave  at  Sablon.  The  furlough 
granted  Sergeant  McLeod  on  account  of  wound  received  in  action  with 
hostile  Indians  would  soon  expire,  and  the  question  was,  should  he  ask 
an  extension,  apply  for  a  discharge,  or  go  back  and  rejoin  his  troop  ? 
It  was  a  matter  on  which  there  was  much  diversity  of  opinion.  Mrs. 
Maynard  should  naturally  be  permitted  first  choice,  and  to  her  wish 
there  wns  every  reason  for  according  deep  and  tender  consideration. 
O  27 


314  FROM  THE  BANKS. 

No  words  can  tell  of  the  rapture  of  that  reunion  with  her  long-lost  son. 
It  was  a  scene  over  which  the  colonel  could  never  ponder  without  deep 
emotion.  The  telegrams  and  letters  by  which  he  carefully  prepared  her 
for  Frederick's  coming  were  all  insufficient.  She  knew  well  that  her 
boy  must  have  greatly  changed  and  matured,  but  when  this  tall, 
bronzed,  bearded,  stalwart  man  sprang  from  the  old  red  omnibus  and 
threw  his  one  serviceable  arm  around  her  trembling  form,  the  mother 
was  utterly  overcome.  Alice  left  them  alone  together  a  full  hour  before 
even  she  intruded,  and  little  by  little,  as  the  days  went  by  and  Mrs. 
Maynard  realized  that  it  was  really  her  Fred  who  was  whistling  about 
the  cottage  or  booming  trooper  songs  in  his  great  basso  profundo,  and 
glorying  in  his  regiment  and  the  cavalry  life  he  had  led,  a  wonderful 
content  and  joy  shone  in  her  handsome  face.  It  was  not  until  the 
colonel  announced  that  it  was  about  time  for  them  to  think  of  going 
back  to  Sibley  that  the  cloud  came.  Fred  said  he  couldn't  go. 

In  fact,  the  colonel  himself  had  been  worrying  a  little  over  it.  As 
Fred  Renwick,  the  tall  distinguished  young  man  in  civilian  costume, 
he  would  be  welcome  anywhere ;  but,  though  his  garb  was  that  of  the 
sovereign  citizen  so  long  as  his  furlough  lasted,  there  were  but  two 
weeks  more  of  it  left,  and  officially  he  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
Sergeant  McLeod,  Troop  B, th  Cavalry,  and  there  was  no  prece- 
dent for  a  colonel's  entertaining  as  an  honored  guest  and  social  equal 
one  of  the  enlisted  men  of  the  army.  He  rather  hoped  that  Fred 
would  yield  to  his  mother's  entreaties  and  apply  for  a  discharge.  His 
wound  and  the  latent  trouble  with  his  heart  would  probably  render  it 
an  easy  matter  to  obtain ;  and  yet  he  was  ashamed  of  himself  for  the 
feeling. 

Then  there  was  Alice.  It  was  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  so  very  high 
bred  a  young  woman  would  relish  the  idea  of  being  seen  around  Fort 
Sibley  on  the  arm  of  her  brother  the  sergeant ;  but,  wonderful  to  relate, 
Miss  Alice  took  a  radically  different  view  of  the  whole  situation.  So 
far  from  wishing  Fred  out  of  the  army,  she  importuned  him  day  after 
day  until  he  got  out  his  best  uniform,  with  its  resplendent  chevrons  and 
stripes  of  vivid  yellow,  and  the  yellow  helmet-cords,  though  they  were 
but  humble  worsted,  and  when  he  came  forth  in  that  dress,  with  the 
bronze  medal  on  his  left  breast  and  the  sharpshooter's  silver  cross, 
his  tall  athletic  figure  showing  to  such  advantage,  his  dark,  Southern, 
manly  features  so  enhanced  by  contrast  with  his  yellow  facings,  she 
clapped  her  hands  with  a  cry  of  delight  and  sprang  into  his  one  avail 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  315 

able  arm  and  threw  her  own  about  his  neck  and  kisscil  him  again  and 
again.  Even  mamma  had  to  admit  he  looked  astonishingly  well ;  but 
Alice  declared  she  would  never  thereafter  be  reconciled  to  seeing  him  in 
anything  but  a  cavalry  uniform.  The  colonel  found  her  not  at  all  of 
her  mother's  way  of  thinking.  She  saw  no  reason  why  Fred  should 
leave  the  service.  Other  sergeants  had  won  their  commissions  every 
year  :  why  not  he  ?  Even  if  it  were  some  time  in  coming,  was  there 
shame  or  degradation  in  being  a  cavalry  sergeant  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it ! 
Fred  himself  was  loath  to  quit.  He  was  getting  a  little  homesick,  too, 
— homesick  for  the  boundless  life  and  space  and  air  of  the  broad 
frontier, — homesick  for  the  rapid  movement  and  vigorous  hours  in  the 
saddle  and  on  the  scout.  His  arm  was  healing,  and  such  a  delight  of  a 
letter  had  come  from  his  captain,  telling  him  that  the  adjutant  had  just 
been  to  see  him  about  the  new  staff  of  the  regiment.  The  gallant 
sergeant-major,  a  young  Prussian  of  marked  ability,  had  been  killed 
early  in  the  campaign ;  the  vacancy  must  soon  be  filled,  and  the  colonel 
and  the  adjutant  both  thought  at  once  of  Sergeant  McLeod.  "  I  won't 
stand  in  your  way,  sergeant,"  wrote  his  troop  commander,  "  but  you 
know  that  old  Eyan  is  to  be  discharged  at  the  end  of  his  sixth  enlist- 
ment the  10th  of  next  month;  there  is  no  man  I  would  sooner  see  in 
his  place  as  first  sergeant  of  my  troop  than  yourself,  and  I  hate  to  lose 
you  ;  but,  as  it  will  be  for  the  gain  and  the  good  of  the  whole  regiment, 
you  ought  to  accept  the  adjutant's  offer.  All  the  men  rejoice  to  heai 
you  are  recovering  so  fast,  and  all  will  be  glad  to  see  Sergeant  McLeod 
back  again." 

Even  Mrs.  Maynard  could  not  but  see  the  pride  and  comfort  this 
letter  gave  her  son.  Her  own  longing  was  to  have  him  established  in 
some  business  in  the  East ;  but  he  said  frankly  he  had  no  taste  for  it, 
and  would  only  pine  for  the  old  life  in  the  saddle.  There  were  other 
reasons,  too,  said  he,  why  he  felt  that  he  could  not  go  back  to  New 
York,  and  his  voice  trembled,  and  Mrs.  Maynard  said  no  more.  It 
was  the  sole  allusion  he  had  made  to  the  old,  old  sorrow,  but  it  was 
plain  that  the  recovery  was  incomplete.  The  colonel  and  the  doctor  at 
Sibley  believed  that  Fred  could  be  carried  past  the  medical  board  by  a 
little  management,  and  everything  began  to  look  as  though  he  would 
have  his  way.  All  they  were  waiting  for,  said  the  colonel,  was  to  hear 
from  Armitage.  He  was  still  at  Fort  Russell  with  the  head-quarters 

and  several  troops  of  the th  Cavalry :  hid  wound  was  too  severe 

for  him  to  travel  farther  for  weeks  to  come,  but  he  could  write,  and  he 


316  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

had  been  consulted.  They  were  sitting  under  the  broad  piazza  at 
Sablon,  looking  out  at  the  lovely,  placid  lake,  and  talking  it  over 
among  themselves. 

"  I  have  always  leaned  on  Armitage  ever  since  I  first  came  to  the 
regiment  and  found  him  adjutant,"  said  the  colonel.  "  I  always  found 
his  judgment  clear ;  but  since  our  last  experience  I  have  begun  to  look 
upon  him  as  infallible." 

1  Alice  Renwick's  face  took  on  a  flood  of  crimson  as  she  sat  there  by 
her  brother's  side,  silent  and  attentive.  Only  within  the  week  that  fol- 
lowed their  return — the  colonel's  and  her  brother's — had  the  story  of 
the  strange  complication  been  revealed  to  them.  Twice  had  she  heard 
from  Fred's  lips  the  story  of  Frank  Armitage's  greeting  that  frosty 
morning  at  the  springs.  Time  and  again  had  she  made  her  mother  go 
over  the  colonel's  account  of  the  confidence  and  faith  he  had  expressed 
in  there  being  a  simple  explanation  of  the  whole  mystery,  and  of  his 
indignant  refusal  to  attach  one  moment's  suspicion  to  her.  Shocked, 
stunned,  outraged  as  she  felt  at  the  mere  fact  that  such  a  story  had 
gained  an  instant's  credence  in  garrison  circles,  she  was  overwhelmed 
by  the  weight  of  circumstantial  evidence  that  had  been  arrayed  against 
her.  Only  little  by  little  did  her  mother  reveal  it  to  her.  Only  after 
several  days  did  Fred  repeat  the  story  of  his  night  adventure  and  his 
theft  of  her  picture,  of  his  narrow  escape,  and  of  his  subsequent  visit  to 
the  cottage.  Only  gradually  had  her  mother  revealed  to  her  the  cir- 
cumstances of  Jerrold's  wager  with  Sloat,  and  the  direful  consequences ; 
of  his  double  absences  the  very  nights  on  which  Fred  had  made  his 
visits ;  of  the  suspicions  that  resulted,  the  accusations,  and  his  refusal 
to  explain  and  clear  her  name.  Mrs.  Maynard  felt  vaguely  relieved  to 
see  how  slight  an  impression  the  young  man  had  made  on  her  daughter's 
heart.  Alice  seemed  but  little  surprised  to  hear  of  the  engagement  to 
Nina  Beaubien,  of  her  rush  to  his  rescue,  and  their  romantic  parting. 
The  tragedy  of  his  death  hushed  all  further  talk  on  that  subject.  There 
was  one  on  which  she  could  not  hear  enough,  and  that  was  about  the 
man  who  had  been  most  instrumental  in  the  rescue  of  her  name  and 
honor.  Alice  had  only  tender  sorrow  and  no  reproach  for  her  step-father 
when,  after  her  mother  told  her  the  story  of  his  sad  experience  twenty 
years  befare,  she  related  his  distress  of  mind  and  suspicion  when  he  read 
Jerrold's  letter.  It  was  then  that  Alice  said,  "  And  against  that  piece 


of  evidence  no  man,  I  suppose,  would  hold  me  guiltless."     * 
"  You  are  wrong,  dear,"  was  her  mother's  answer.    "  It  \ 


was  power- 


FROM  THE  HANKS.  317 

less  to  move  Captain  Arraitage.  He  scouted  the  idea  of  your  guilt  from 
the  moment  he  set  eyes  on  you,  and  never  rested  until  he  had  overturned 
the  last  atom  of  evidence.  Even  I  had  to  explain,"  said  her  mother, 
"  simply  to  confirm  his  theory  of  the  light  Captain  Chester  had  seen, 
and  the  shadows  and  the  form  at  the  window.  It  was  just  exactly  as 
Armitage  reasoned  it  out.  I  was  wretched  and  wakeful,  sleeping  but 
fitfully,  that  night.  I  arose  and  took  some  bromide  about  three  o'clock, 
and  soon  afterwards  heard  a  fall,  or  a  noise  like  one.  I  thought  of  you, 
and  got  up  and  went  in  your  room,  and  all  was  quiet  there,  but  it  seemed 
close  and  warm :  so  I  raised  your  shade,  and  then  left  both  your  door 
and  mine  open  and  went  back  to  bed.  I  dozed  away  presently,  and 
then  woke  feeling  all  startled  again, — don't  you  know  ? — the  sensation 
one  experiences  when  aroused  from  sleep,  certain  that  there  has  been  a 
strange  and  startling  noise,  and  yet  unable  to  tell  what  it  was  ?  I  lay 
still  a  moment,  but  the  colonel  slept  through  it  all,  and  I  wondered  at 
it.  I  knew  there  had  been  a  shot,  or  something,  but  could  not  bear  to 
disturb  him.  At  last  I  got  up  again  and  went  to  your  room  to  be  sure 
you  were  all  right,  and  you  were  sleeping  soundly  still ;  but  a  breeze 
was  beginning  to  blow  and  flap  your  shade  to  and  fro,  so  I  drew  it  and 
went  out,  taking  my  lamp  with  me  this  time  and  softly  closing  your 
door  behind  me.  See  how  it  all  seemed  to  fit  in  with  everything  else 
that  had  happened.  It  took  a  man  with  a  will  of  his  own  and  an  un- 
shaken faith  in  woman  to  stand  firm  against  such  evidence." 

And,  though  Alice  Renwick  was  silent,  she  appreciated  the  fact 
none  the  less.  Day  after  day  she  clung  to  her  stalwart  brother's  side. 
She  had  ceased  to  ask  questions  about  Captain  Armitage  and  that 
strange  greeting  after  the  first  day  or  two,  but,  oddly  enough,  she  could 
never  let  him  talk  long  of  any  subject  but  that  campaign,  of  his  ride 
with  the  captain  to  the  front,  of  the  long  talk  they  had  had,  and  then 
the  stirring  fight  and  the  magnificent  way  in  which  Armitage  had 
handled  his  long  skirmish-line.  He  was  enthusiastic  in  his  praise  of 
the  tall  Saxon  captain.  He  soon  noted  how  silent  and  absorbed  she 
sat  when  he  was  the  theme  of  discourse;  he  incidentally  mentioned 
little  things  "he"  had  said  about  "her"  that  morning,  and  marked 
how  her  color  rose  and  her  eyes  flashed  quick,  joyful,  questioning 
glance  at  his  face,  then  fell  in  maiden  shyness.  He  had  speedily 
gauged  the  cause  of  that  strange  excitement  displayed  by  Armitage 
at  seeing  him  the  morning  he  rode  in  with  the  scout.  Now  he  was 
gauging,  with  infinite  delight,  the  other  side  of  the  question.  Then, 


318  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

brother-like,  he  began  to  twit  and  tease  her ;  and  that  was  the  last  of 
the  confidences. 

All  the  same  it  was  an  eager  group  that  surrounded  the  colonel  the 
evening  he  came  down  with  the  captain's  letter.  "  It  settles  the  thing 
in  my  mind.  We'll  go  back  to  Sibley  to-morrow;  and  as  for  you, 
Sergeant-Major  Fred,  your  name  has  gone  in  for  a  commission,  and 
I've  no  doubt  a  very  deserving  sergeant  will  be  spoiled  in  making  a 
very  good-for-nothing  second  lieutenant.  Get  you  back  to  your  regi- 
ment, sir,  and  call  on  Captain  Armitage  as  soon  as  you  reach  Fort 
Russell,  and  tell  him  you  are  much  obliged.  He  has  been  blowing 
your  trumpet  for  you  there ;  and,  as  some  of  those  cavalrymen  have 
sense  enough  to  appreciate  the  opinion  of  such  a  soldier  as  my  ex- 
adjutant, — some  of  them,  mind  you :  I  don't  admit  that  all  cavalry- 
men have  sense  enough  to  keep  them  out  of  perpetual  trouble, — you 
came  in  for  a  hearty  endorsement,  and  you'll  probably  be  up  before  the 
next  board  for  examination.  Go  and  bone  your  Constitution,  and  the 
Rule  of  Three,  and  who  was  the  father  of  Zebedee's  children,  and  the 
order  of  the  Ptolemies  and  the  Seleucidse,  and  other  such  things  that 
they'll  be  sure  to  ask  you  as  indispensable  to  the  mental  outfit  of  an 
Indian-fighter."  It  was  evident  that  the  colonel  was  in  joyous  mood. 
But  Alice  was  silent.  She  wanted  to  hear  the  letter.  He  would  have 
handed  it  to  Frederick,  but  both  Mrs.  Maynard  and  Aunt  Grace 
clamored  to  hear  it  read  aloud :  so  he  cleared  his  throat  and  began : 

"MY  DEAR  COLONEL, — 

"  Fred's  chances  for  a  commission  are  good,  as  the  enclosed  papers 
will  show  you ;  but  even  were  this  not  the  case  I  would  have  but  one 
thing  to  say  in  answer  to  your  letter :  he  should  go  back  to  his  troop. 

"  Whatever  our  friends  and  fellow-citizens  may  think  on  the  subject, 
I  hold  that  the  profession  of  the  soldier  is  to  the  full  as  honorable  as 
any  in  civil  life ;  and  it  is  liable  at  any  moment  to  be  more  useful.  I 
do  not  mean  the  officer  alone.  I  say,  and  mean,  the  soldier.  As  for 
me,  I  would  rather  be  first  sergeant  of  my  troop  or  company,  or  ser- 
geant-major of  my  regiment,  than  any  lieutenant  in  it  except  the  adju- 
tant. Hope  of  promotion  is  all  that  can  make  a  subaltern's  life  en- 
durable, but  the  staff-sergeant  or  the  first  sergeant,  honored  and 
respected  by  his  officers,  decorated  for  bravery  by  Congress,  and  looked 
up  to  by  his  comrades,  is  a  king  among  men.  The  pay  has  nothing 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  319 

to  do  with  it.  I  say  to  Renwick,  '  Come  back  as  soon  as  your  wound 
will  let  you,'  and  I  envy  him  the  welcome  that  will  be  his. 

"As  for  me,  I  am  even  more  eager  to  get  back  to  you  all;  but 
things  look  very  dubious.  The  doctors  shake  their  heads  at  anything 
under  a  month,  and  say  I'll  be  lucky  if  I  eat  my  Thanksgiving  dinner 
with  you.  If  trying  to  get  well  is  going  to  help,  October  shall  not  be 
done  with  before  B  Company  will  report  me  present  again. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  my  dear  old  friend,  how  I  rejoice  with  you  in 
your-  -hum  and  haw  and  this  is  all  about  something  else,"  goes  on  the 
colonel,  in  malignant  disregard  of  the  longing  looks  in  the  eyes  of  three 
women,  all  of  whom  are  eager  to  hear  the  rest  of  it,  and  one  of  whom 
wouldn't  say  so  for  worlds.  "  Write  to  me  often.  Remember  me 
warmly  to  the  ladies  of  your  household.  I  fear  Miss  Alice  would  de- 
spise this  wild,  open  prairie-country ;  there  is  no  golden-rod  here,  and  I 
so  often  see  her  as — hum  and  hum  and  all  that  sort  of  talk  of  no  interest 
to  anybody,"  says  he,  with  a  quizzical  look  over  his  "bows"  at  the 
lovely  face  and  form  bending  forward  with  forgetful  eagerness  to  hear 
how  "  he  so  often  sees  her."  And  there  is  a  great  bunch  of  golden-rod 
in  her  lap  now,  and  a  vivid  blush  on  her  cheek.  The  colonel  is  waxing 
as  frivolous  as  Fred,  and  quite  as  great  a  tease. 

And  then  October  comes,  and  Fred  has  gone,  and  the  colonel  and 
his  household  are  back  at  Sibley,  where  the  garrison  is  enraptured  at 
seeing  them,  and  where  the  women  precipitate  themselves  upon  them 
in  tumultuous  welcome.  If  Alice  cannot  quite  make  up  her  mind  to 
return  the  kisses,  and  shrinks  slightly  from  the  rapturous  embrace  of 
some  of  the  younger  and  more  impulsive  of  the  sisterhood, — if  Mrs. 
Maynard  is  a  trifle  more  distant  and  stately  than  was  the  case  before 
they  went  away, — the  garrison  does  not  resent  it.  The  ladies  don't 
wonder  they  feel  indignant  at  the  way  people  behaved  and  talked ;  and 
each  lady  is  sure  that  the  behavior  and  the  talk  were  all  somebody 
else's  ;  not  by  any  possible  chance  could  it  be  laid  at  the  door  of  the 
speaker.  And  Alice  is  the  reigning  belle  beyond  dispute,  though  there 
is  only  subdued  gayety  at  the  fort,  for  the  memory  of  their  losses  at 
the  Spirit  Wolf  is  still  fresh  in  the  minds  of  the  regiment.  But  no 
man  alludes  to  the  events  of  the  black  August  night,  no  woman  is 
permitted  to  address  either  Mrs.  Maynard  or  her  daughter  on  the  sub- 
ject. There  are  some  who  seek  to  be  confidential  and  who  cautiously 
feel  their  way  for  an  opening,  but  the  mental  sparring  is  vain  :  there  is 
au  indefinable  something  that  tells  the  intruder,  "Thus  far,  and  no 


320  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

farther."     Mrs.  Maynard  is  courteous,  cordial,  and  hospitable,  Alice 
sweet  and  gracious  and  sympathetic,  even,  but  confidential  never. 

And  then  Captain  Armitage,  late  in  the  month,  comes  home  on 
crutches,  and  his  men  give  him  a  welcome  that  makes  the  rafters  ring, 
and  he  rejoices  in  it  and  thanks  them  from  his  heart ;  but  there  is  a 
welcome  his  eyes  plead  for  that  would  mean  to  him  far  more  than  any 
other.  How  wistfully  he  studies  her  face  !  How  unmistakable  is  the 
love  and  worship  in  every  tone !  How  quickly  the  garrison  sees  it  all, 
and  how  mad  the  garrison  is  to  see  whether  or  not  'tis  welcome  to  her ! , 
But  Alice  Renwick  is  no  maiden  to  be  lightly  won.  The  very  thought 
that  the  garrison  had  so  easily  given  her  over  to  Jerrold  is  enough  to 
mantle  her  cheek  with  indignant  protest.  She  accepts  his  attentions, 
as  she  does  those  of  the  younger  officers,  with  consummate  grace.  She 
shows  no  preference,  will  grant  no  favors.  She  makes  fair  distribution 
of  her  dances  at  the  hops  at  the  fort  and  the  parties  in  town.  There 
are  young  civilians  who  begin  to  be  devoted  in  society  and  to  come  out 
to  the  fort  on  every  possible  opportunity,  and  these,  too,  she  welcomes 
with  laughing  grace  and  cordiality.  She  is  a  glowing,  radiant,  gor- 
geous beauty  this  cool  autumn,  and  she  rides  and  drives  and  dances, 
and,  the  women  say,  flirts,  and  looks  handsomer  every  day,  and  poor 
Armitage  is  beginning  to  look  very  grave  and  depressed.  "  He  wooes 
and  wins  not,"  is  the  cry.  His  wound  has  almost  healed,  so  far  as  the 
thigh  is  concerned,  and  his  crutches  are  discarded,  but  his  heart  is 
bleeding,  and  it  tells  on  his  general  condition.  The  doctors  say  he 
ought  to  be  getting  well  faster,  and  so  they  tell  Miss  Renwick, — at 
least  somebody  does;  but  still  she  relents  not,  and  it  is  something 
beyond  the  garrison's  power  of  conjecture  to  decide  what  the  result 
will  be.  Into  her  pretty  white-and-yellow  room  no  one  penetrates 
except  at  her  invitation,  even  when  the  garrison  ladies  are  spending  the 
day  at  the  colonel's ;  and  even  if  they  did  there  would  be  no  visible 
sign  by  which  they  could  judge  whether  his  flowers  were  treasured  or 
his  picture  honored  above  others.  Into  her  brave  and  beautiful  nature 
none  can  gaze  and  say  with  any  confidence  either  "  she  loves"  or  "  she 
loves  not."  Winter  comes,  with  biting  cold  and  blinding  snow,  and 
still  there  is  no  sign.  The  joyous  holidays,  the  glad  New  Year,  are 
almost  at  hand,  and  still  there  is  no  symptom  of  surrender.  No  one 
dreams  of  the  depth  and  reverence  and  gratitude  and  loyalty  and 
strength  of  the  love  that  is  burning  in  her  heart  until,  all  of  a  sudden,. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  321 

in  the  most  unexpected  and  astonishing  way,  it  bursts  forth  in  sight 
of  all. 

They  had  been  down  skating  on  the  slough,  a  number  of  the 
youngsters  and  the  daughters  of  the  garrison.  Rollins  was  there, 
doing  the  devoted  to  Mamie  Gray,  and  already  there  were  gossips 
lyhispering  that  she  would  soon  forget  she  ever  knew  such  a  beau  as 
Jerrold  in  the  new-found  happiness  of  another  one ;  Hall  was  there 
iwith  the  doctor's  pretty  daughter,  and  Mrs.  Hoyt  was  matronizing  the 
party,  which  would,  of  course,  have  been  incomplete  without  Alice.  She 
had  been  skating  hand  in  hand  with  a  devoted  young  subaltern  in  the 
artillery,  and  poor  Armitage,  whose  leg  was  unequal  to  skating,  had  been 
ruefully  admiring  the  scene.  He  had  persuaded  Sloat  to  go  out  and 
walk  with  him,  and  Sloat  went ;  but  the  hollow  mockery  of  the  whole 
thing  became  apparent  to  him  after  they  had  been  watching  the  skaters 
awhile,  and  he  got  chilled  and  wanted  Armitage  to  push  ahead.  The 
captain  said  he  believed  his  leg  was  too  stiff  for  further  tramping  and 
would  be  the  better  for  a  rest ;  and  Sloat  left  him. 

Heavens !  how  beautiful  she  was,  with  her  sparkling  eyes  and 
radiant  color,  glowing  with  the  graceful  exercise !  He  sat  there  on 
an  old  log,  watching  the  skaters  as  they  flew  by  him,  and  striving  to 
keep  up  an  impartial  interest,  or  an  appearance  of  it,  for  the  other  girls. 
But  the  red  sun  was  going  down,  and  twilight  was  on  them  all  of  a 
sudden,  and  he  could  see  nothing  but  that  face  and  form.  He  closed 
his  eyes  a  moment  to  shut  out  the  too  eager  glare  of  the  glowing  disk 
taking  its  last  fierce  peep  at  them  over  the  western  bluffs,  and  as  he 
closed  them  the  same  vision  came  back, — the  picture  that  had  haunted 
his  every  living,  dreaming  moment  since  the  beautiful  August  Sunday 
in  the  woodland  lane  at  Sablon.  With  undying  love,  with  changeless 
passion,  his  life  was  given  over  to  the  fair,  slender  maiden  he  had  seen 
in  all  the  glory  of  the  sunshine  and  the  golden-rod,  standing  with  up- 
lifted head,  with  all  her  soul  shining  in  her  beautiful  eyes  and  thrilling 
in  her  voice.  Both  worshipping  and  worshipped  was  Alice  Renwick 
as  she  sang  her  hymn  of  praise  in  unison  with  the  swelling  chorus  that 
floated  through  the  trees  from  the  little  brown  church  upon  the  hill. 
From  that  day  she  was  Queen  Alice  in  every  thought,  and  he  her  loyal, 
faithful  knight  for  weal  or  woe. 

Boom  went  the  sunset  gun  far  up  on  the  parade  above  them. 
'Twas  dinner-time,  and  the  skaters  were  compelled  to  give  up  their  pas- 
time. Armitage  set  his  teeth  at  the  entirely  too  devotional  attitude  of 


322  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

the  artilleryman  as  he  slowly  and  lingeringly  removed  her  skates,  and 
turned  away  in  that  utterly  helpless  frame  of  mind  which  will  overtake 
the  strongest  men  on  similar  occasions.  He  had  been  sitting  too  long  in 
the  cold,  and  was  chilled  through  and  stiff,  and  his  wounded  leg  seemed 
numb.  Leaning  heavily  on  his  stout  stick,  he  began  slowly  and  pain- 
fully the  ascent  to  the  railway,  and  chose  for  the  purpose  a  winding 
path  that  was  for  lass  steep,  though  considerably  longer,  than  the  sharp 
climb  the  girls  and  their  escorts  made  so  light  of.  One  after  another 
the  glowing  faces  of  the  fair  skaters  appeared  above  the  embankment, 
and  their  gallants  carefully  convoyed  them  across  the  icy  and  slippery 
track  to  the  wooden  platform  beyond.  Armitage,  toiling  slowly  up  his 
pathway,  heard  their  blithe  laughter,  and  thought  with  no  little  bitter- 
ness that  it  was  a  case  of  "  out  of  sight  out  of  mind"  with  him,  as  with 
better  men.  What  sense  was  there  in  his  long  devotion  to  her  ?  Why 
stand  between  her  and  the  far  more  natural  choice  of  a  lover  nearer 
her  years  ?  "  Like  unto  like"  was  Nature's  law.  It  was  flying  in  the 
face  of  Providence  to  expect  to  win  the  love  of  one  so  young  and  fair, 
when  others  so  young  and  comely  craved  it.  The  sweat  was  beaded 
on  his  forehead  as  he  neared  the  top  and  came  in  sight  of  the  platform. 
5Tes,  they  had  no  thought  for  him.  Already  Mrs.  Hoyt  was  half-way 
up  the  wooden  stairs,  and  the  others  were  scattered  more  or  less  between 
that  point  and  the  platform  at  the  station.  Far  down  at  the  south  end 
paced  the  fur-clad  sentry.  There  it  was  an  easy  step  from  the  track  to 
the  boards,  and  there,  with  much  laughter  but  no  difficulty,  the  young 
officers  had  lifted  their  fair  charges  to  the  walk.  All  were  chatting 
gayly  as  they  turned  away  to  take  the  wooden  causeway  from  the  station 
to  the  stairs,  and  Miss  Renwick  was  among  the  foremost  at  the  point 
where  it  left  the  platform.  Here,  however,  she  glanced  back  and  then 
about  her,  and  then,  bending  down,  began  fumbling  at  the  buttons  of 
her  boot. 

"Oh,  permit  me,  Miss  Renwick,"  said  her  eager  escort.  "I  will 
button  it." 

"  Thanks,  no.  Please  don't  wait,  good  people.  I'll  be  with  you  in 
an  instant." 

And  so  the  other  girls,  absorbed  in  talk  with  their  respective  gal- 
lants, passed  her  by,  and  then  Alice  Renwick  again  stood  erect  and 
looked  anxiously  but  quickly  back. 

"  Captain  Armitage  is  not  in  sight,  and  we  ought  not  to  leave  him. 
lie  may  not  find  it  easy  to  climb  to  that  platform,"  she  said. 


FROM  THE  RANKS.  323 

"  Armitage?  Oh,  he'll  come  on  all  right,"  answered  the  battery- 
man,  with  easy  assurance.  "  Maybe  he  has  gone  round  by  the  road. 
Even  if  he  hasn't,  I've  seen  him  make  that  in  one  jump  many  a  time. 
He's  an  active  old  buffer  for  his  years." 

"  But  his  wound  may  prove  too  much  for  that  jump  now.  Ah 
there  he  comes,"  she  answered,  with  evident  relief;  and  just  at  the 
moment,  too,  the  forage-cap  of  the  tall  soldier  rose  slowly  intc  view 
some  distance  up  the  track,  and  he  came  walking  slowly  down  on  the 
sharp  curve  towards  the  platform,  the  same  sharp  curve  continuing  on 
out  of  sight  behind  him, — behind  the  high  and  rocky  bluff. 

"  He's  taken  the  long  way  up,"  said  the  gunner.  "  Well,  shall  we 
go  on  ?" 

"  Not  yet,"  she  said,  with  eyes  that  were  glowing  strangely  and  a 
voice  that  trembled.  Her  cheeks,  too,  were  paling.  "Mr.  Stuart, 
I'm  sure  I  heard  the  roar  of  a  train  echoed  back  from  the  other  side." 

"  Nonsense,  Miss  Renwick !  There's  no  train  either  way  for  two 
hours  yet." 

But  she  had  begun  to  edge  her  way  back  toward  the  platform,  and 
he  could  not  but  follow.  Looking  across  the  intervening  space, — a 
rocky  hollow  twenty  feet  in  depth, — he  could  see  that  the  captain  had 
reached  the  platform  and  was  seeking  for  a  good  place  to  step  up ;  then 
that  he  lifted  his  right  foot  and  placed  it  on  the  planking  and  with  his 
cane  and  the  stiff  and  wounded  left  leg  strove  to  push  himself  on. 
Had  there  been  a  hand  to  help  him,  all  would  have  been  easy  enough ; 
but  there  was  none,  and  the  plan  would  not  work.  Absorbed  in  hia 
efforts,  he  could  not  see  Stuart ;  he  did  not  see  that  Miss  Renwick  had 
left  her  companions  and  was  retracing  her  steps  to  get  back  to  the 
platform.  He  heard  a  sudden  dull  roar  from  the  rocks  across  the 
stream ;  then  a  sharp,  shrill  whistle  just  around  the  bluff.  My  God  1 
a  train,  and  that  man  there,  alone,  helpless,  deserted  !  Stuart  gave  a 
shout  of  agony  :  "  Back  !  Roll  back  over  the  bank  !"  Armitage 
glanced  around ;  determined  ;  gave  one  mighty  effort ;  the  iron-ferruled 
stick  slipped  on  the  icy  track,  and  down  he  went,  prone  between  the 
glistening  rails,  even  as  the  black  vomiting  monster  came  thundering 
round  the  bend.  He  had  struck  his  head  upon  the  iron,  and  was 
stunned,  not  senseless,  but  scrambled  to  his  hands  and  knees  and  strove 
to  crawl  away.  Even  as  he  did  so  he  heard  a  shriek  of  anguish  in  his 
ears,  and  with  one  wild  leap  Alice  Renwick  came  flying  from  the  plat- 
form in  the  very  face  of  advancing  ieath,  and  the  next  instant,  her  arm 


324  FROM  THE  BANKS. 

clasped  about  his  neck,  his  strong  arms  tightly  clasping  her,  they  were 
lying  side  by  side,  bruised,  stunned,  but  safe,  in  a  welcoming  snow-drill 
half-way  down  the  hither  bank. 

When  Stuart  reached  the  scene,  as  soon  as  the  engine  and  some 
wrecking-cars  had  thundered  by,  he  looked  down  upon  a  picture  that 
dispelled  any  lingering  doubt  in  his  mind.  Armitage,  clasping  Queen 
Alice  +f)  his  heart,  was  half  rising  from  the  blessed  mantlet  of  the  snow, 
and  she,  her  head  upon  his  broad  shoulder,  was  smiling  faintly  up  into 
his  face :  then  the  glorious  eyes  closed  in  a  death-like  swoon. 

Fort  Sibley  had  its  share  of  sensations  that  eventful  year.  Its 
crowning  triumph  in  the  one  that  followed  was  the  wedding  in  the 
early  spring.  Of  all  the  lovely  women  there  assembled,  the  bride  by 
common  consent  stood  unrivalled, — Queen  Alice  indeed.  There  was 
some  difference  of  opinion  among  authorities  as  to  who  was  really  the 
finest-looking  and  most  soldierly  among  the  throng  of  officers  in  the 
conventional  full-dress  uniform. :  many  there  were  who  gave  the  palm 
to  the  tall,  dark,  slender  lieutenant  of  cavalry  who  wore  his  shoulder- 
knots  for  the  first  time  on  this  occasion,  and  who,  for  a  man  from  the 
ranks,  seemed  consummately  at  home  in  the  manifold  and  trying  duties 
of  a  groomsman.  Mrs.  Maynard,  leaning  on  his  arm  at  a  later  hour 
and  looking  up  rapturously  in  his  bronzed  features,  had  no  divided 
opinion.  While  others  had  by  no  means  so  readily  forgotten  or  for- 
given the  mad  freak  that  so  nearly  involved  them  all  in  wretched  mis- 
understanding, she  had  nothing  but  rejoicing  in  his  whole  career. 
Proud  of  the  gallant  officer  who  had  won  the  daughter  whom  she 
loved  HO  tenderly,  she  still  believes,  in  the  depths  of  the  boundless 
mother-love,  that  no  man  can  quite  surpass  her  soldier  son. 


THE  END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
LOS  ANGELES 


A  fee  of  3c  per  day  is  charged  for  this  book  which  was  withdra 
the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JAN 


Book  slip-lm-1,'49  (62574)483 


1980 


1HEUBRAKT 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


PS    King  - 

2172  Deserter  from 

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1158  00542  5946 


PS 

2172 

D45 


